


Blinded

by WinteryFall



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Acid Attack, Action/Adventure, Alternate take to the Winter Soldier, Blindness, Brainwashing, Bucky Barnes & Sam Wilson Friendship, Bucky is lethal, Canon Divergence - Post-Avengers (2012), Cuddles, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Steve Rogers, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Hiding, Hugs, Kisses, Kittens, M/M, Major Character Injury, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Bucky Barnes, Recovery, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Sam is the Voice of Reason, Secret Crush, Steve appreciates Bucky's kittens, Steve doesn't appreciate it, nurturing Bucky Barnes, sneaky bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-11-14 10:12:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 85,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11205918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinteryFall/pseuds/WinteryFall
Summary: During his months in SHIELD, Steve is assigned to work alongside his fellow Avenger Natasha to quietly take out Hydra-branches secretly nesting inside Shield. Things take a dramatic turn once a vicious attack renders Steve momentarily blind, and he has to be protected by a mysterious figure Fury had hidden somewhere in his basement.It soon becomes clear the man is not what Steve initially though he was, but the Captain could have never expected the whole truth behind the mysterious Winter Soldier.Translation into mandarin here:  http://www.lofter.com/blog/abigail965





	1. Lights out

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [未見初冬](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12467048) by [abbabccd05](https://archiveofourown.org/users/abbabccd05/pseuds/abbabccd05), [carolchang829](https://archiveofourown.org/users/carolchang829/pseuds/carolchang829)



_The noise of buildings grumbling around him is deafening; he yells orders at others, knocking out the enemies with his shield._

_One, two, three...they just keep coming._

_There is a hole in the sky, portal to another dimension. More enemies fall down from it, rampaging all over New York streets. He sees as a giant green blur hurls over him, crashing against a building wall, taking out a bunch of the alien invader. A thunder strikes somewhere afar; Thor was summoning his lightnings. Everything was so...chaotic, so surreal. His own heartbeat thunders in his veins like the lightning Thor summoned, downing out the chaotic sounds of the battlefield._

_Then, something shoots at him, and he collapses to the ground, with a hole in his stomach; burned flesh around it in a perfect circle, blood oozing out from it. Natasha yells out his name, running towards him in shock. The world starts to fade to blackness._

_"Steve!"_

 

"Steve?"

 

The blond man sits up abruptly, and looks around confused. He was in his apartment instead of a battlefield, ad there was no hole in his stomach. No wound anywhere visible. It must have been another one of those dreams. The man takes in a deep breath to calm down his racing heart.

The red haired woman stands beside his couch, and had it not been Natasha, Steve would have demanded to know how the hell she got into his apartment without him knowing. The red haired woman was known to be good at sneaking into places, so Steve no longer questioned it.

"You could have knocked." Steve says with a sigh as he straightens himself to an upright sitting position, rubbing his eyes.

"I did, but you did not respond so I let myself in to check you were okay."

The woman points out calmly, crossing her arms with slight concerned frown. It had been six months since the Chitauri attack, and he was still....shaky. Steve did not know why, perhaps it was the accumulated stress from the past year and so, that was only now starting to show its proper effects. Natasha had noticed of course, and mentioned that he should go and see a psychiatrist. She'd meant it as a helpful suggestion, but Steve had turned it down; he did not feel like he had the right to bother with his own issues when the world kept getting in danger.

"Why are you here?" Steve asks with a sigh, looking probably a bit tense. He did not really like it when Nat witnessed him waking up from a nightmare; she'd always have that 'I told you to see someone' look on her face when she did. "Fury called; we have another mission." Steve sighs again and gets up, brushing trough his hair. He still felt some trails of cold sweat run down his spine, but the man pushed the dream aside for now. It wasn't even the worst one he'd seen during the past few weeks.

"What now?"

"They located an old base in Wisconsin that seems strangely to be in use."

"Hydra?"

"Yes, Fury suspects that it's one of their hiding holes; he also said there might be something they're cooking up in there that we should check."

The Captain walks to his bedroom to change clothes a bit; the shirt he had slept in was a bit sweaty thanks to the uneasy dream, so he figured he might as well change it. This had been his task for the past months; after Tony had decrypted the Shield files, they had found out about the Hydra infestation in Shield.

Well, not really found out per say; Fury had been aware of it for their not-so-surprising-surprise, but as Tony had made it public knowledge, Hydra had revolted and was now trying to hide their tail.

As a result, Steve and Natasha had both been going through a lot of former Shield bases to find out it was overrun by the opposing side.

Almost a third of Shield staff was under investigation, and the whole country was in a bit of a paranoid state. "We won't be doing this alone." Natasha comments once Steve comes out, now with a fresh white T-shirt too small for his size. It was hard to find fitting clothes for him. Her expression was a little strange, and Steve frowns a bit. "Avengers?"

"No...." Steve lifts eyebrow, questioningly; the woman looked a bit...conflicted.

"An agent?" She shakes her head again.

"Fury doesn't trust anybody outside us two to deal with this - I mean, he doesn't fully trust us either, but it's better than nothing." Steve huffs, but then smiles a bit sadly; it was part of the job for Fury, but it must have been exhausting to be constantly on your guard. "Then who is it?" "He is...a special operative. He isn't officially on Shield's paycheck list; hence Fury figured he could be perfect for this task."

Steve lifts an eyebrow at that; it sounded unusual.

Sure, the eye-patch wielding man was full of secrets, but just because he was used to it, it did not mean Steve liked it. He preferred to know those he worked with inside out. "He works directly under Fury's orders...though; he does not answer to Fury, not really. Unofficial as I said." "Can we trust somebody like that?" Steve questions instantly, crossing his arms.

"I let you be the judge." Something about her tone made Steve uneasy.

 

 

 

It turns out, the 'special operative' was more than a mysterious figure; they'd driven to a city nearby the base, and were currently waiting at the edge of a rocky cliff above the base they were going to head into. It was late at night and they were waiting for their mysterious third member to arrive. Natasha seemed tense, clearly not liking how they had to wait for so long.

"Are you sure he is coming?"

"He doesn't usually drop out when asked to do something, but...he might be a bit hesitant because of you."

The woman says calmly, glancing down at the base; it seemed quiet but she could see some movement here and there, indicating some guards.

Steve lifts eyebrow at that. "Why? Am I that scary?"

The woman hums and smiles at him, a flash of pearly whites in the nightly darkness. "No. He just...prefers to work alone. Having me tag along at times is already bit of a stretch; he keeps seeing me as a kid." That was an unusual statement, but as Steve looks at her questioningly, the woman shakes her head and frowns, as if she'd said too much.

"Then why did Fury even ask him to join us?" The blond man asks instead.

Before Natasha could answer, a figure suddenly appears from the forest. Steve instantly lifts his shield in high alert, but the woman holds her hand up to stop him. As the figure steps out from the shadows, Steve feels his muscles tense even further; the man was... He was completely covered in black, his face hidden by a mask and goggles, but what caught Steve's attention, was his arm. The man's entire left arm was made of metal. The surface was split into multiple plates, and the metallic surface shone a bit in the dim moonlight; there was a red star on his shoulder, almost like a branding of some sort.

"Steve, meet the Winter Soldier." Natasha introduces him. Steve drops his shield a bit, but examines the man quietly. He felt...unnerved by him, for some reason. The man just stood there, his entire posture a bit....unnatural. He was kind of stiff, as if he was as tense as Steve. Both hands curled into fists, looking directly at him from beneath the goggles, the Soldier seemed ready for a fight, though Steve had a feeling it was not because of him.

The dark brown, lanky hair reached down to his shoulders, and only a small patch of pale skin was visible on his forehead.

"This is Steve Rogers, or Captain America. Though you already knew that, didn't you?" Natasha says after a moment of tense silence, and the man turns his head towards the woman with unnaturally smooth and rigid movement, nodding faintly. "Good. Fury must have briefed you on why we are here." Steve glanced at Natasha, noting that she seemed a bit uneasy, and kept glancing between Steve and the Soldier, as if expecting something to happen.

Again, a nod.

It seemed that the Winter Soldier was not a man of words.

If he was a human at all under that mask; his posture was too tense and too robotic for one. "So then, since this is the first time Steve will be working with you, I'll brief him on your skills, is that fine?" Natasha's tone was very formal, but it felt like she was forcing it out as some sort of show for either the Soldier, or Steve. The man just crosses his arms. The red haired woman sighs, and gives the soldier a long, meaningful stare that Steve could not understand. She also mouths something out in Russian, but Steve could not understand what it was. Before he could ask, she turns to him with a focused look.

"To give you the basics; he's excellent in hand-to-hand combat, and has a lot of similar abilities to yours. He's more sufficient with firearms than you, though." There was a hint of humor in her tone, and Steve rolls his eyes a bit, glancing at the quiet man. "He's an excellent sniper too, so when you form our battle-plan, take that into accordion as well."

Steve looks at the man again; he indeed had a sniper's rifle on his back, alongside a lot of other weaponry he carried.

"He can also, unlike you, use knives efficiently in a fight."

"So you are saying he's like a bloodthirsty version of me?" Steve asks quietly; he felt really uneasy under the goggle-covered gaze of the Soldier.

He just reeked of danger.

"A little bit; I'd say he's more lethal."

"Same thing."

Natasha rolls her eyes at him, and smirks a bit. "So, what is our planned approach, Captain?"

 

The base was, as suspected, filled to the brim with Hydra agents.

The Soldier had sniped all ten of them from the front side using his rifle, creating enough havoc to lure most of their attention there, allowing the trio to sneak in from the west side. They'd ended up facing more soldiers inside, so Steve decided that it was for the best if he and the Soldier focused on keeping these at bay and catching their attention, while Natasha sneaked further in to retrieve any potential information from the place's main hard-drive.

Steve noted at that point, that the Winter Soldier was about as good of a fighter as Natasha had implied, if not even more brutal and efficient; he reaped trough the opposing forces with ease, using both weapons and his close combat skills. He did all this, all the while not making a single sound or a grunt, not even when he got hit by something. A soldier who was capable of both short and long range fighting with seemingly high level of stamina was an unnerving prospect, and Steve could not stop but wonder where Fury had dug the soldier out from.

Steve quickly takes out two soldiers high up on the next floor level with his shield, and then immediately ducks behind a wall, as another group from the opposing side starts shooting at him.

The large ground floor hall they were in was not ideal fighting ground for Steve and his quiet partner, but at least there were plenty of pillars and office things to hide behind. It was a little disturbing, given the fact a lot of things had the Shield insignia, but Steve had no time to contemplate that right now. "Natasha! Your status!" Steve questions in his com-link, feeling really concerned; he had not heard of Natasha ever since they split. The woman had gone up to the north-west side to sneak in secretly and check their computer systems, but had not reported back yet. Steve glances from his hiding spot, noting that the Soldier had also ducked behind a pillar further away, and his gun ready.

_"I'm in; you boys having fun there?"_

"Does he know how to use non-lethal force? He's killed over half of them already." Steve almost huffs in the microphone, gaining a slight, quiet chuckle from Natasha.

_"Probably not anymore."_

Her tone was a mix between apologetic and almost sad.

Steve peeks around, noting that the shooters had been taken out while he'd been talking to Natasha, and the Soldier was currently engaged in hand-to-hand combat with a last few of them. It looked a little like a bunch of small creatures trying to hold down an unyielding beast, and Steve could honestly see a bit of fear in some of their eyes. Then, one of them pulls out a knife and strikes it on his shoulder. For Steve's - and the Hydra-agent's - light surprise, the man doesn't flinch, or yelp, just shrugs the stabber off from his shoulder, and tugs the knife out of his flesh, throwing it at the stabbers face with one swift motion; it hit the man in the eye with such force that it sank good few inches in.

The Soldier immediately moves and grabs his gun with his other arm and shoots at the already falling man, making sure he was dead.

Steve quickly throws his shield to knock the last two terrified soldiers out, wanting to prevent such a brutal death for them; they may have been Hydra soldiers, but Steve was not for this level of violence. As he reaches for the man, the Soldier stares at him from beneath the goggles. "You are being too violent; they are much weaker than you." He says to the man sternly, but the Soldier doesn't respond.

Not that Steve expected him to.

He did not have time for a longer rant, as the next second an s.o.s call came from Natasha's end: she'd been ambushed. The two men glance at each other, then quickly head towards the area the woman was in. By the time they'd reached Natasha, she had knocked out half of the assailants in proper Black Widow style, and Steve finished off the rest with his companion - who again, swiftly killed his opponents.

"What is it about?" Steve questions as he turns his dismayed stare from the Soldier to Natasha, who was currently downloading the things in the computer, as well as checking trough the files. "It seems like some sort of a formula; perhaps a chemical weapon?" Natasha scrolls trough the large amount of information, but her research is stopped short, as one of the soldiers they'd knocked out suddenly rushes at then, with something akin to an explosive in his hand.

Steve reacts, but the Winter Soldier is faster; he grasps the nearby table and swings it at the man, sending him fly backwards. The bomb slips from his hand, and the man quickly slides to grasp it before it hits the ground and potentially detonates. He then crushes it with his metal limb, letting the now useless bomb-pieces clatter to the floor like rain of metal.

"Boys, we need to get out of here; I doubt that is the only bomb they set up." Natasha warns them, and just as the last words leave her lips, they start hearing something rumble in the distance, and the whole building starts to shake. None of them stand there startled for a second; Natasha grasps the data-stick she'd downloaded the files on, and they run as the building collapses behind them.

 

 

 

 

"So how did you guys get out there?" Sam asks after drinking from his water-bottle; the two men were sitting below a tree at the park, having finished their usual running routine - as in, Steve running ahead and overtaking Sam multiple times while he tried to catch up - and the blond man had ended up telling his friend about their latest mission. Of course, Steve kept these things brief and general as the missions were technically classified ones, but he trusted Sam.

 

The African-American male was not the type to nose into other people's business too much, apart from giving some sassy comments or genuine advice. The latter probably came from the fact he was working as some sort of support-person slash therapist to wounded and traumatized soldiers. "We ran like hell; barely managed to get out before the last blast took the whole place out. My ears rang for several minutes, though it wasn't as bad of a cacophony as some of the modern music." Steve lets out a chuckle, drinking down rest of his water.

"Can imagine your boss flipped his shit, you were supposed to gather Intel, but instead bring entire place down."

"At first yes, but then he heard that Nat had managed to get the files we'd gone to retrieve, so Banner is now looking through them, as he understands the science in the, better than anybody Fury could think of."

"And how about the Mr. Grumpy-gills?"

Steve blinks confused, then quickly realizes whom Sam meant.

"I...don't know. After we got out of the place, and Nat informed Fury about our whereabouts for pickup, he vanished." Sam lifts eyebrow at that. "She said it was normal." Steve shrugs with a sigh, and rubs his eyes; he'd honestly been a little glad the Soldier had left; he'd felt uneasy in his presence. "Well, each to their own, I suppose." Sam chuckles stretching a little, before crossing his arms and leaning back against the tree with a thoughtful frown. "You know....that kinda reminds me of one of the guys I look after - not that intense violence part, but the vanishing act."

"Should you be telling me that?"

"Should you be telling me about your top-secret missions?" Ouch, Sam got him there. Steve lets out a sheepish laugh and rubs his head.

"It's fine dude; I’m not gonna reveal their identity or anything, that's a no no. What I mean that this one guy has a nack of suddenly appearing and disappearing for our appointments. Like, I legit never see him coming, or leaving. He just is there, and the next second, boom, he's gone!"

"That is...unusual."

"I swear; I'm just expecting him to pop in my car or house someday." Sam chuckles, but there is a concerned tilt to his voice. Steve doubted it was because of his words however. Sam was probably just concerned for the man, like he would be for all of his 'patients.'

"How long has he been your patient?"

"Five years; these can be very long-lasting relationships."

"...I see."

Whatever the man Sam was talking about had gone through, Steve felt sorry for them; five years of therapy and still not enough, apparently... "So yeah, we got spooky weirdos all around - not that he's a weirdo, just...got issues." "Well, I hope they are satisfied with your psychiatric services." Sam snorts and rolls his eyes at Steve's teasing tone, before tugging himself up. "Talkin' about that, I gotta get going; see you later, Cap."

"See you, Wilson." Steve responds with a smile, and watches his friend jog to the gate of the park, before turning his gaze to the skies.

Sun was starting to set, and the color of the sky was turning from blue to different hues of red, yellow and orange. After a moment of just sitting there and adoring those colors, Steve sighs and gets up, knowing he should head home. He tugs his jacket back on from his waist, figuring he should take a shower once he gets back, and starts walking to the same direction Sam went.

For the next few weeks, Steve is paired with Natasha on multiple missions to seek out and destroy - or take over - Hydra run bases. The Captain had mentioned multiple times to Fury that perhaps they should assign the entire Avengers team for these tasks, but Fury kept stating that at this moment, the places they were going through did not require that much power. "I'll call 'em all in when it's needed." Fury had said. Steve partially understood it, given the fact some of his fellow Avengers were indeed highly powerful, but the same time, he felt Fury just wanted to try and deal things secretly, so that there would not be any further spread of panic amongst people.

On a few of those missions - the more secret ones that revolved around retrieving something, like Intel or other things - The Winter Soldier joined him and Natasha, never speaking a word to Steve. He was always very brutal, and Steve felt unpleasant working with him. Well, not unpleasant, just uneasy; he was not above using deadly force himself, Steve was not that much in denial to not admit it, but the Soldier was ALWAYS lethal, which bothered him.

Plus...he kept staring at Steve at times, when he wasn't looking at the dark haired man directly.

Sure, the man always wore his mask and glasses, but Steve could feel his eyes on him. It was...strange. Strange and a bit unnerving. He also seemed to have some sort of silent discussions with Natasha quite often, and while he never spoke to Steve, he exchanged words in Russian with the woman quietly. Steve could never understand what they said, Nat sounded a bit frustrated with him at times. Steve had a feeling it was not because of his excessive level of violence; Natasha was a lot less bothered by it than him, almost used to it. Currently, they were holed up in a small, dusty apartment that Steve suspected to be one of Natasha's secret places, as she'd known where the key was.

They'd gone through another base west from this small town, and the Soldier had gotten injured while he'd shielded Natasha from a bullet. They'd then escaped through the sewage system, while the place had again detonated around them; it seemed that each time they got too close, Hydra would blow the place up. So far, these places had been far from the cities and civilians, but these explosions kept creating unrest within the public, and Steve was concerned one day one of these places would blow in the middle of a town or a city.

The Soldier had removed his jacket and black undershirt, leaving his chest bare, while Natasha asserted his wound; the bullet wasn't too deep, but leaving it in would not be good for his health, or so Natasha had said, as the Soldier had seemed reluctant to let her treat it.

Looking at him, Steve was surprised to see, that despite his slightly robotic behavior, the man was all human muscle under his clothes - apart from his arm that was attached to his left shoulder.

Gross scarring was visible at the point metal turned to flesh, and Steve could not stop but wonder where he'd gotten that arm, and how.

The soldier still kept his mask and goggles on to cover his face, which according to Natasha was because 'he doesn't see a reason to remove any more of his gear than necessary.'

Steve had a feeling it was because of him.

It was...unreal, watching Natasha work.

The man did not react at all, not when she dug the bullet out, cleaned it and stitched it back together.

It doesn't matter how high your pain-tolerance levels were, you should react at least SOMEHOW, but the man did not move at all, just sat there, hands resting against his knees.

He barely breathed even; his chest did not rise much as he sat there, sort of like a human statue. "Steve, you might want to stop staring; I know he's a looker, but that's actually uncomfortable." Steve blinks, and then quickly turns his head away, feeling his face heat up a bit due to the teasing tone in her voice. It was not like he...he did not mean to stare really; he'd just been in his thoughts.

After a moment, Natasha is finished, and stands up from the chair behind the Soldier's, bringing the first-aid-kit back to the bathroom, as the man tugs his shirt back on. He then reaches for his goggles, and for Steve's surprise, takes them off to rub his eyes. As he lifts his gaze to stare at a wall for a second, Steve notes that his eyes are blue, and hold a certain kind of....weight to them.

Steve had heard of this term, which was used to describe soldiers who had eyes like that, but he could not remember what it was called. Apparently he had this look in his eyes too sometimes, according to others.

Suddenly, the blue eyes drift on him, and Steve feels his entire body freeze. The weight of the man's gaze nailed him in his place. Steve holds his breath, not even knowing why. For a moment, the Soldier just glares at him behind his mask, and Steve feels his heartbeat fasten; he had no clue what the man wanted, but it felt like he was going to say something. Seconds passed by, and Steve wondered what took Natasha so long.

Finally, the man releases his gaze and slips the goggles back on, just as Natasha comes back.

"I'll contact Fury; he probably wants to send the data I gathered to Bruce again, as it seems to be linked to what we found from the first base." She then notes the strange tenseness on the air, and lifts eyebrow questioningly at Steve.

"Right...I...we should do that." The blond man manages to mutter out, shaking his head to clear his thoughts. His whole skin suddenly felt tingly, and his heartbeat refused to go down. Was this caused by the natural aura of terror the man seemed to carry? He'd seen quite a few agents of Hydra they'd fought look at him terrified before their demise. There was just something about that stare, which unnerved him.

"Steve?" A hand brushes his shoulder, and the man glances down at Natasha.

"Ah, yes; we better inform Fury right away."

 

 

 

Steve had just finished his jogging routine for the evening; Sam had not come around this time, informing Steve that he'd have an appointment with one of his patients today. Steve had understood it, and honestly, he was not up for talking much today anyway. He kept thinking back at that moment few days ago. Steve did not know why, but he found himself thinking about the Winter Soldier's eyes over and over again. He'd felt uneasy under their stare, but as he thought back on it, there was....something familiar there, and he could not understand why he felt so.

He'd never met the man before the first mission he joined in on; at least Steve was pretty sure he hadn't.

The captain sighs, tugging his jacket on tighter; normally cold did not bother him much, but he'd felt really uneasy lately, perhaps because of the Soldier. His violent ways kept unnerving Steve, and his almost non-human behavior did not help. He'd wanted to ask more about him so many times, from Fury or Natasha, but he'd known he would probably not get answers. Neither of them trusted him enough apparently.

While Steve walked home, he did not notice the shadowy figure tailing him.

Icy blue eyes were locked at the back of his head, like a sniper's aim.

His shadower was wearing a black leather jacket with a hood, and the collar of the black shirt beneath had been tugged over his face.

His hands were in his pockets, hiding a metallic arm.

 

 

Once Steve reaches his home, he notes that his female neighbors' door was open; perhaps the blonde lady was downstairs washing her clothes? However...she would not leave the door open like that. It was unusual. Steve stops, and hesitates for a moment; he did not want to barge in to somebody's home, but...something told him things weren't like they were supposed to be. Something was wrong.

"Kate?"

He knocks on the door and calls out for her neighbor, but so far, the apartment seemed quiet. Slowly, the man steps in looking around the eerily quiet apartment a bit tense. He felt bad about this, but his gut instinct was telling him that something just wasn't right. As he looked around the place, Steve noted that it was rather tidy and simplistically decorated, sort of like his. There was an open laptop on the kitchen table, and Steve walks to it cautiously. As he looks at the screen, his heart skips a beat; it showcased surveillance from around the building - and inside his apartment. What was going on? A sudden noise startles the man, and he looks around in the eerily quiet apartment. The bedroom door was partially open.

"Kate? Are you okay?"

Steve calls out for her again, but gains no answer. Yet...he could tell somebody was definitely in the bedroom, he could see a shadow of a person from the crack on the bottom of the door. Quietly, Steve inches closer, feeling his heart beat on his chest. Something was most definitely wrong; it was too quiet, and whoever was hiding in the bedroom, was probably not Kate. He was so preoccupied with whoever was hiding in there that Steve failed to notice the figure that sneaked in behind him, until he was suddenly struck by something from behind. The blow causes Steve to stumble to the ground, but he quickly regains some of his composure to dodge another attack; his assailant was cloaked in dark clothing, face hidden under a mask, but Steve could tell by the frame it was a woman.

She was holding some sort of electric baton now, and there were shards of porcelain on the floor with blood in them; she had apparently struck him with one of Kate's pottery. Steve quickly dodges an attack from her, and then grasps her wrist, throwing the unknown assailant aside. He still felt a little bad about hitting the woman, but it was clear she was up to no good. Steve quickly moved to grasp her by the throat, forcing the woman against a wall. "Where is Kate?" He demands, but the unknown female just chuckles beneath his mask, and then kicks him in the groin, making Steve let her go and stumble.

He gets back up again, avoiding a swift kick to the head with few millimeters. The woman was clearly not even close to his strength, but she was agile like Natasha. Steve dodges couple more of her swift punches and kicks - all aimed to vital spots like eyes and neck - before knocking her off her feet again. Just as she stumbles to the ground, the bedroom door bursts open, and Steve watches in shock as the injured Kate is thrown to the floor by two bigger guys. She looks dazed, but then looks up at Steve and her face goes pale. "No, why did you enter!?" She manages to say, before being tugged off the floor from her hair. Steve could tell she had put on an almighty fight, for the guys had several wounds and bruises on their faces alone, and the other one was holding his side, which was bleeding. It surprised Steve a little bit, as at first glance Kate did not seem like a fighter; she was a nurse, right? "Who are you?! What do you want from her?" Steve demands from the trio, who just laugh.

"Nothing, Rogers; she was the bait, and you were the fish." The woman behind him states with a heavy Russian accent. As Steve turns to look at her, something suddenly hits his face. A burning liquid, that forces him to close his eyes and collapse to the floor in pain.

"Steve!" Kate calls out for him in horror. It felt like she'd sprayed him with acid; his face burned, his eyes blistered, and his entire body was in pain. "Yes, that works remarkably well; shall I give him a proper dose?" The woman asks from her partners, now holding a syringe filled with the same stuff she'd sprayed at his face. Before anyone could do anything however, a glass shattered, and something flew across the hall, hitting the woman. She falls to the floor with a fresh bullet-wound in her head.

Steve could hear the thud, and between the immense pain and blurred vision, he catches a glimpse of her glazed-eyes that had been hidden behind the mask, which had now fallen off her face.

She was bleeding from her forehead, a clean headshot, meant to kill instantly.

The two men yell something in Russian as she falls, but Steve could hear two more shots whirl by, and later, two more thuds. The assailants were all dead; shot by somebody through the far end window of the kitchen. The blond woman quickly gathers her bearings and rushes to Steve, checking on his condition. "Captain Rogers, can you hear me?" There was panic in her voice, but Steve was unable to respond or look at her; it felt like his whole face was melting, and his throat swollen shut.

"Oh god oh god...what do I..." the woman mutters to herself, looking around, then quickly goes to get some water to douse off whatever they had sprayed on Steve.

The cool liquid helps a bit, and Steve is again able to open his eyes, seeing Kate's frantic face above him. Then, he heard fourth thud, and she looks up, her eyes wide in panic. There was still a trail of blood running down her face, but for Steve's relief she actually seemed relatively okay despite her injuries. Steve then manages to twist his head despite the aching pain, and sees a black figure climb in from the shattered window. While he could barely make out any features, Steve recognizes the glint of metal at the man's left side - or right, in his point of view.

There was a high-caliber handgun on his hand, probably the one he used to shoot the three. The woman looks around frantic, then grasps a gun from the dead woman's belt, pointing it at the new intruder For a moment, the black figure just stares at her, then nods at Steve

. "Call your boss; he needs help." The Soldier's voice was emotionless and calm, fitting to his usual robotic and methodical behavior.

Steve could not make out what she said in response, as the pain intensified again, and he found himself drift into unconsciousness.

 

 

Everything was painful; it felt like his body was on fire.

It reminded Steve of the time he received the serum, except this felt a whole lot worse, honestly.

Besides, it was more focused around his head; like somebody was jabbing thousand burning hot knives into his head. He could hear voices distantly, some worried, others calmer. He recognized some.

".....will wake up...."

".....Serum probably helped...."

"It's going to be fine."

 

Steve felt his mind clear, as the pain subsides. He attempts to open his eyes, but then realizes that he can't; something was covering them. Steve tries to move his hand to reach for it, but his body sends a sharp jolt of pain racing through his body, and he winces, letting out an audible whimper. All the talk around him stops, and after a moment he feels a presence next to him, and a hand rests on top of his. "Don't try to move too much Steve; the poison they threw at you was really nasty stuff." It was Nat, and from her voice, Steve could hear she'd been really scared for him.

"What....where..."

"In the Avengers tower; Fury informed us that somebody attacked you, so we brought you here for treatment as Tony got some really advanced tech here."

"Kate...." There is a pause, and Natasha lets out a sigh.

"She's fine; she was surprise-attacked by the two men; they used her to lure you there."

"Thank....god..." The woman lets out a chuckle, but it is bittersweet.

"Be glad that Ja...that the Soldier kept an eye on you; had he not shot the three, they would've given you a bigger dose that could have killed you." Steve still had questions in his mind, but his body was too exhausted and in pain to really ask further questions, so he just nods slightly, settling back down. "Bruce will analyze the stuff they threw on your eyes, Cap. In the meantime you should practice on being a motionless capsicle again." Tony remarks from a further away, but Steve could tell from his shaky voice he'd been really scared for him too.

It was kind of touching.

"Just rest, Steve. You should be safe here." Natasha comments gently, still holding onto his hand. Steve just squeezes hers, finding it the least painful thing to do.

"Nat..."

"Steve, I told you to rest."

"If you...see him....tell him..."

"...that you said thank you. I will, not that he cares." She says with a light chuckle.

 

 

When he woke up again it was quiet. Since he could not see absolutely anything, Steve could not tell if it was night or daytime. So he just lied there, sunken in his thoughts. His face and body no longer hurt that bad, indicating that he was already gaining resistance against whatever chemical was thrown at him. His eyes must still have been pretty bad though, given the fact he could feel the sting.

Steve just breathes in and out, in, and out, listening for any sounds around him.

All he could really hear was his own heartbeat and the typical ringing noise in his ears. As the time passed, his thoughts became louder, filling in the void of sound. He had a lot of things in his mind; the mission from two days ago, what happened to his neighbor, the Winter Soldier and his sudden appearance to the scene. Why had he been there in the first place? Had he known Steve - and Kate - would be attacked? What was the point of the attack, and what was up with that surveillance feed on Kate's laptop? One thing Steve was sure in the midst of all these questions; the attackers were most definitely members of Hydra.

As he thought of this, something bitter rose in his throat; he'd given his life, his everything, to save the world from Hydra's grasp, only to wake up seventy years later and find out they were still there, a loathsome parasite within the very organization Peggy herself had created alongside Stark. It made his blood boil, and Steve had to suck in few deep breaths to calm himself down again; getting agitated apparently caused his body to hurt more for some reason.

Bucky would have yelled bloody murder at him, told him to not make it worse for himself.

Steve frowns, wondering why that thought had popped in his head.

Perhaps he had too much time in his hands right now; usually, he avoided thinking of Bucky as much as he could, for it always hurt so badly. Now however, he was unable to stop himself from thinking about it; during the first few weeks since he'd been out of ice, that scene had replayed itself on Steve's head over and over. Bucky falling and him being unable to do anything to help him.

He'd managed to shake it away for a while, but it came back occasionally, especially during past few weeks. It had been his main nightmare, in fact, aside from things relating to the Aliens-in-New-York-incident. Steve could remember how he'd dragged himself back into the train, and collapsed to the floor, just trying to get his breathing back under control for at least a minute. He'd somehow managed to deal with the rest of the mission, but the Howlies could tell he was hit badly; none of them asked any questions aside from wanting to know the basics of what happened. Steve had walked in a daze at that evening, finding the bar they'd gone to earlier in ruins. He'd managed to get a bottle of alcohol for himself, and sat down on the only intact table left. That's when he'd finally broken down; the tears had started flowing, and Steve had done nothing to stop them. By the time Peggy found him, he'd run dry, but the melancholy hadn't left.

Even after all these years, it had not let go of him.

Steve feels his chest tighten, and he sucks in few more breaths, suddenly feeling woozy. He should not have thought of that, for his entire body was now shaking, and he could feel his eyes wanting to let out some tears. They couldn't due to his injury, so what came out was something warmer, probably blood. It also hurt. Steve tries to calm down, but it felt like his body refused to listen to his commands now. His eyes hurt so bad, like somebody was trailing a knife's edge across his cheeks, alongside the 'tear-tracks' the blood left. He lets out a shaky, gasping breath, trying to reach for the bandage; Steve wants to rip it off to rub his eyes, to make the pain stop. It hurts so bad now, that his ears are ringing loudly.

Then, he hears something shift beside him, and suddenly, something metallic closes around his wrist.

Steve freezes, letting out a surprised whimper as he struggles against the hold weakly. It was almost an embarrassing sound, but Steve was unable to stop it; everything about him was rather weak at the moment due to the poisoning.

"Don't."

Steve feels his heart skip a beat; he recognized that somewhat neutral, cold tone.

It was the Winter Soldier.

Slowly, the metal hand brings Steve's arm back down to the mattress, and something akin to a cloth wipes his bloody tears away. It was....such a gentle gesture that Steve feels his thoughts halt and crash into a confused mess. It felt very unlike the Soldier's usual behavior. Steve keeps his head turned towards the presence, suddenly relieved he wasn't alone in the room, even if his only companion was this man.

"Your eyes are toast at the moment; if you try to weep, your tear ducts will only rip a vein and bleed all over your face." The Winter Soldier says with his cold, monotone voice. Steve was not sure if he was keeping it like that on purpose, or if it was natural. The blonde man also notes his voice sounds muffled; he was probably still wearing the mask. "Why...are you here?" Steve manages to ask quietly. He sounded so raspy, like he hadn't drunk in days. Then again, the captain honestly did not know how long he'd been out.

"Fury. Told me to watch after you for now. Doesn't trust Stark's tech as it's been hacked before. Though if you ask me, he just generally doesn’t trust people." The Soldier's voice was still perfectly neutral, and Steve could hear him shift further away. He was probably a menacing sight, if he was still wearing his leathered gear and the mask. "What...time is it?"

"Night." The Soldier says simply, and Steve could feel from his voice the man was preoccupied with something.

He could hear the whirling sound his metal arm made when he handled something.

He was in fact, twirling a knife in that hand to pass time, but of course Steve could not see it.

It was quite frustrating, trying to pick up clues at what was going on just from the sound alone. Then, Steve realizes, he had not sensed the man's presence until he'd grasped his arm. In this silence....how quietly did the man breathe? If at all? Just when Steve thought he could not be any more unnerving. "Hey....about..." "Romanoff told me. I was doing my job, nothing else." "Still...thanks." For a moment, there is silence in the room, and Steve wonders if the man had vanished again, like he'd done right after their mission, but his voice breaks the silence again. "I can’t babysit you constantly so try not to get acid all over your face again.” Steve could feel an icy glare at him, but it felt less terrifying than usual due to the near playful choice of words.

 

 

The next time he woke up, he felt someone's presence next to him again, but this time it was Bruce. He was checking his blood pressure, and probably some other things. "Morning, Steve. He told us what happened last night; you should not strain yourself so much, not when your eyes don't function properly right now." Bruce's tone was gentle as always, but also a bit scolding.

"Is he..."

"Fury called him this morning; apparently he wants to talk to the man about something."

For a moment, there is silence, and then Steve licks his lips unsure. "Hey....do you...know anything about him?" He could hear the doctor shift trough some papers he was holding - Tony had all those holo-projectors, but Bruce preferred traditional papers as he found them easier to use - and sighs. "Not much; Fury did give us the basics last evening when he suddenly popped up in the middle of the launching pad, but you'd be better off asking Nat or Tony; they both seem to know more than me." Steve frowns a bit; he could understand Natasha, but Tony?

"Cap....I am going to be honest with you; the stuff they sprayed at you, it's...I've never seen such a thing before. It is like it was tailored to work against you." "Are you saying my life is in danger?"

"Not necessarily, the dose you got was minimal given the fact you can only absorb very small amount through the skin, let alone the small bits of fumes your breathed in. But...your eyesight might be compromised."

That sounded bad. "But...we are working on trying to find a solution, don't worry." Bruce rushes to reassure him, gaining a sigh from Steve. "It's fine; I'm glad you were honest with me."

"As always, Captain."

Steve could hear the smile from Bruce's tone.

"Oh look! Capsicle is awake!" A familiar tone burst into the room, and Steve could feel somebody pat his shoulder after a moment. "You doing alright there, old man? No joint pain or anything?"

"Hilarious, Tony." Steve comments with a sigh.

"I know that I am hilarious, but try to keep your laughter at bay; I figured you want to know what exactly happened after you passed out the first time." Steve could not deny that, so he just nods.

"So, to simplify the whole story; your neighbor was a Shield-babysitter assigned to guard you, which is why her laptop had surveillance on your house." Tony pauses for a second, glancing at Bruce who was working through some calculations. "Her name's Sharon, by the way, not Kate."

"Yes I think you said that already."

Steve sighs; he was too tired to be really upset about this. He should have expected something like that from Fury, anyway. "Just making sure, you look pretty bad, so I wanna be sure this sinks in to your brain." Steve sighs a bit annoyed, though the same time he was glad somebody was keeping him company; it was...frustrating to be bedridden like this. It reminded him of the days he'd been struck with asthma or fever, having to stay in his tiny home, with Bucky watching after him. Bucky was not there now. Steve bit his lip, forcing that thought away. He did not need another bloody-tears fit.

"Uhm...so....I don't know how to say this..." Tony sounds suddenly unsure, and Steve could feel him shift a bit.

"If it's about my eyes, Bruce told me already."

"Oh...good, good. You know, it's not so bad; there are blind superheroes too."

Tony tried to keep his voice reassuring, but Steve could tell he was being skeptic, mainly because he felt unsure if Steve could adapt fighting without his eyesight.

"I'm sure you guys figure something out."

"Good to know our Cap still trusts us."

"Do I have a choice, given the fact I am stuck in your tower?" Steve points out, his tone light despite the situation.

Tony lets out a snort, and Steve could imagine him roll his eyes.

The door opens, and Steve could hear Tony shift away from the bed. "Lookie here, the Terminator is back." Termi.....oh. Who would have known? He understood that reference and deduced Tony was talking about the Soldier. "Banner needs you." The cold voice says simply, although Steve noticed a bit gentler tilt to it for some reason. As if he was hesitant to be outright icy towards Tony.

It was....kind of a relief to hear some emotion in his voice for once, as for the past few months all Steve had gotten was either muteness, or cold, robotic tone.

The man was probably human beneath his crack, after all. Not just a human look-a-like. "Alrighty then, make sure Capsicle here doesn't drain himself of blood by weeping all over the place; bloodstains are hard to wipe off."

There is a pause in the air, and Tony continues with a bit more chilling tone.

"Then again, you'd know all about it."

The Soldier says nothing to that, he just walks to the chair he'd sat on last night, and Tony leaves the room, closing the door behind him. "Where were you?" Steve asks, not even sure why. There was a moment of silence. "Fury wanted a briefing." Oh, that made sense. Wait, why was he even concerned over that? He did not even know this man well, and he honestly unnerved Steve so badly.

Even if he did say he was ordered to guard over Steve, surely Avengers tower was more than a safe place for him. Perhaps the poisonous gas screwed over more than just his eyesight.

 

 

Steve woke up to the feeling of dread and unease; his body was ticklish and twitchy, and he felt nauseous. He hears something shift beside him, which was probably the soldier. A cold hand lands on his forehead and he could feel someone lean over him. A shiver ran down Steve's body, and he was not sure what was the cause; the feeling of his presence nearby him, or something else. He could hear the man muse out something very quietly, but due to him whispering and the muzzle covering his face, Steve could not make out his words. Then, the hand suddenly vanished, and the next thing he knew he was yanked off the bed almost violently. His entire body ached now, like he'd fallen to a ground made out of sharp glass pieces. Steve did not have any time to gather his bearings, as he's picked back up from the ground and hurled out of the door like a rack doll. "What..." Steve manages to mumble out, but his voice is dried out by something covering his mouth; at first Steve thinks he's being attacked again, but soon a familiar voice cuts through the silence.

"Breathe; it's just oxygen. They've gassed your room."

Steve abruptly realizes he's being held on the floor by the Soldier, and the thing in his mouth was some sort of small oxygen generator, like a miniature version of those in a plane. Steve had no clue where he'd gotten that, but knowing Tony, he probably had a lot of strange stuff stored everywhere in this tower. "....not just your room; the whole place's full of it." The man adds suddenly, sounding almost frustrated. "What is...?” Steve manages to mutter out, but talking causes it to slip, and Steve now could see what he meant; the air was heavy, thick with something definitely toxic. The Soldier slips the oxygen generator back in his mouth, and for a second Steve worries for him. "My mask protects me." The man says simply and pulls Steve up from the floor and leans him against the wall; Steve noted it was easier to breathe this way, so whatever the gas was, was filling from bottom up as it was heavier than air.

His companion seems to talk to a comlink of sorts; He remained close to Steve, his body pressed somewhat against his to hold the limp man upright. The blond man felt uncomfortable about this, but his body felt too weak to push him away, and would have probably collapsed back to the hazardous floor had he not been supported by the Soldier's weight.

"Stark, the whole floor's compromised, do you read?"

As there was no reply, the soldier curses and looks up at Steve, not that the blond man could see it. "Can't get through. You have to force yourself to move; we gotta head to the elevator, it's the nearest place without this stuff as it's mostly airtight." Steve just nods; some of the strength had returned to his body now, and he felt less shaky. He had no clue what exactly was going on and why, but they probably had to get out of this poisonous environment and fast, as his eyes stung underneath the cloth and his skin was prickling unpleasantly. The Soldier swiftly backs away a bit, and wraps Steve's arm over his shoulder to support him, as they head somewhere. It was getting unbearable; Steve was wondering if the Soldier felt the gas' effects like he did, and was just hiding them.

His eyes felt like they were burning, wanting to tear up so bad yet he couldn't do it. The oxygen mask helped to keep his thoughts mostly clear, but his body hurt really bad. It was honestly a terrifying experience, as he could not see anything: all he had was the presence of the Soldier beside him, and a firm human arm grasping his waist. Steve rooted himself to that touch to keep himself from panicking.

Suddenly, he heard something open, and the next thing he knew, the gas dissipated from the air as he felt the prickling stop.

A door closed behind him, and Steve knew they were in the elevator now. The Soldier lets go of him and Steve slumps on the floor, just trying to breathe normally. The elevator was indeed free of the gas, save from few small wisps of vapor that had entered when they did. He could hear the man still trying to reach Tony, then curse in a foreign language as he couldn't get through. "They've cut off connections to this floor; I can't even get this damned lift to move." The man huffs, though he still remains fairly calm. "Who are they?" Steve questions with a weak voice, but gains no response.

Then, a more dreadful thought pops up in his head. What if other floors...

"It's a possibility, yes." The Soldier responds as if reading his thoughts, his voice a bit grim.

There is a pause in the air, as if the man was weighing their options. Steve felt really worried right now; all of his friends could be in danger, and he was stuck in his damned elevator with non-functional body and blinded eyesight. Not just that; if the entire building was filled with this mystery gas, it could escape to the city outside and harm innocents. The thought was absolutely terrifying. Suddenly, the whole elevator jerks, and for a second, Steve fears that it's going to fall. Then however, it starts to move up in a steady pace. After a second, the com-link on the elevator crackles alive, and there is a familiar, frantic voice in the microphone.

_"Cap! Are you alright?! Please tell me you're a-okay!"_

It was Tony.

"He's fine; can you see us." The Soldier says neutrally.

_"Yeah, I'm...shit shit shit! I did not expect this."_

"Calm down, kid." The Soldier instructs him coolly, before crouching down next to Steve.

"His eyes are bleeding a bit again, but it's not too bad." Indeed, Steve could feel few small warm droplets run down his cheek, he had not even noticed in the rush of adrenaline from before.

_"Alright, hold on, we bring the elevator up."_

"Are others okay?" Steve questions, and his companion puts something on his ear; the com-link he'd had so that Steve could talk to Tony directly. He repeats his question.

 _"Yeah; after the system rebooted for some reason and began to spread this smelly gas everywhere, we all immediately headed for Bruce's lab as it's the only place that can be properly air-tight, aside from the elevators."_ Steve felt his heart sink; so the whole building was gassed?

_"Shit, Cap, I don't know how this happened; nobody should have been able to override Jarvis!"_

"Calm down Tony; we....we talk about this once we get there, okay?"

Tony was about to respond, when the connection cut off abruptly, the same time as the elevator suddenly halted. For a second, there was an eerie silence, then, Steve suddenly heard a loud metallic clank, and something fell next to him with a loud noise. The next thing he felt was the Soldier yanking him on his feet, securing the human limb around his waist tightly.

"You might want to stop being a dead-weight and hang on."

Steve could not see what was going on, but he could hear the way the elevator creaked. Whatever was going on, it wasn't good, so he had to push his personal embarrassment and disdain aside. He quickly wrapped his arms securely around his companion, holding onto some of the straps in his back. For someone called 'the Winter Soldier,' he was surprisingly warm to hold onto. Steve felt him lift his free arm, and heard a faint noise of some sort of a gun, and a metallic clank far above them. The next thing he knew, the elevator fell from under them, and they were hanging in the air.

Steve could feel the slight blistering return, but he forced himself to stay calm; panicking about the poison gas would not help. He wrapped his legs around the figure holding him to secure himself better; glad that the man probably could not see his face right now, as it was probably bright red. The blond man could feel his oxygen was running out, and he had no choice but to drop his mask, as soon he would not have been able to breathe at all. The second he did that, the coughing started again, and he could feel bile rise in his throat.

"Hang on, we're almost there."

The man holding him says calmly into his ear, seemingly unaffected by the lingering gas, and whatever he was using to let them hang in the air, started to pull them upwards.

Steve could feel his mind go numb slowly, and his grip onto the Soldier was weakening. He apparently noticed that, as the arm holding him tightened its grip, and Steve could hear the man repeat his previous words again, this time a bit more sternly. As he blacked out, the last thing he heard was an elevator door opening above them, and somebody calling out for him.

"Steve!"

 

There were noises around him; he was lying on something soft again, and a hand was squeezing his.

He eventually realized the person calling his name was Natasha.

"Where..."

"Oh thank god! He's awake."

"Are you alright Steve?"

Bruce asks, clearly sounding equally tense and relieved.

"I...think so." "You passed out again before we could pull you up; thank god he has a strong grip even in his flesh arm." Natasha explains with a calm tone, though Steve had a feeling she was hiding her worry. "Is he..." "Well...his mask is efficient, or he is naturally resistant to the gas; I offered to check him too, but....he told me to take care of you first." Bruce explains, glancing at the shadowy figure who had settled himself into a shadowy corner of the room. It seemed to be a habit to the man to go and find a hiding spot. If his muscles were strained from holding onto Steve so tightly, the man did not show it.

"I see...what happened?"

"Somebody managed to hack into the Tower's system and spread the gas all around the building - do not worry, Tony managed to take control back and neutralize it before it got out to the streets." Bruce hurries to say upon noticing the concerned frown that appeared to Steve's face.

"How?"

"I don't know! It happened all of a sudden. I...I'm looking into it." Steve could tell from his voice that Tony was badly distraught, perhaps even guilty.

"Can we trust that the system won't be overtaken again? I mean....whoever the hacker was, managed to override the elevator and nearly drop Steve and the Soldier to their potential deaths." Natasha asks calmly, making the billionaire swing around his heels and glare at her.

"Oh NOW you are doubting me, are you? Listen, I..."

"Enough: Stark's doing his best." The entire room goes quiet, and the eyes turn at the shadowy figure sitting on the corner.

All except Steve, who still could not see anything.

The Soldier remained quiet for a moment, just staring at them with his heavy gaze. Tony shifts uncomfortably, and even Bruce felt uneasy. Natasha was the only one not affected, but then again, she was not spooked by anything.

"All of you. Stay here." "Why are you now the one giving orders?" Tony demands from him, but the dark haired man just gets up, and taps his comlink. After a while, it seems to get through and he speaks quietly to somebody. "Who is he talking to?" Bruce asks, gaining a shrug from Tony. "Fury, probably. Fury is the only person who can contact him directly." Natasha states simply, crossing her arms with a frown. "Why?" Both Steve and Bruce ask in unison. "I told you about this already Steve; the Winter Soldier is an unofficial operative, working directly under Fury. Nobody else is really supposed to know much about him."

Bruce blinks surprised, glancing at the mysterious man again.

"Then why are you telling us that?" Tony questions her, to which the woman shrugs. "That part is generic info; besides, Tony..." she gives him a look that Bruce doesn't quite understand. "You know more than you should." The slight bite in her tone confuses Steve and Bruce, but Tony doesn't respond to that, just turns his attention towards the Soldier, who had apparently finished his conversation.

"What did he say?" Natasha asks from the man. For their confusion, the Soldier just remains quiet, and heads for the door.

"Seriously? I get the whole 'lone wolf' thing with you, but you could at least tell us what the hell he said!" Tony demands, making the figure stop on the door. Slowly, he turns to look at them with that heavy and menacing stare. There is a moment when nobody moves or even dares to breathe. Then, he slips his goggles back on and heads out, seemingly not concerned about any potential gas left.

"That was...unusual." Bruce comments after a moment of silence.

"Seriously! Every time I see that guy, he just up and leaves like that, without explaining anything!" Tony huffs annoyed, making Steve turns his head towards the voice. "You know him?" The billionaire goes silent, and glances at Natasha, who just shakes her head. "Yeah; he kind of helped me when Stane was trying to take over my business. He also babysat me with Agent Coulson once." Tony's voice goes a bit melancholic as he mentions that name; Coulson had been a Shield agent they'd lost during Loki's reign of utter chaos and bullshit.

He seemed like a good guy, so it was a pity.

"Oh." Steve says, having nothing else to say to that.

"Really? You never mentioned that Tony." The billionaire just shrugs at Bruce, leaning against the table.

"He said he did not need any spotlight, so I took all the credit."

If Steve could, he would have rolled his eyes right now.

"For once, I am glad you did; he is supposed to be a secret." Natasha points out, to which Tony snorts.

"Doesn't seem much of a secret to me."

"Tony..."

The growing argument was interrupted as Steve suddenly clutched his head and curled up a bit as a wave of pain hit him. Bruce was instantly on his side, but Steve could not hear nor sense what he or anybody else was doing; his ears were ringing so loudly, and his entire body was hurting. Eventually, he slumped back against the bed, his mind shutting down to protect him from the pain. Whatever this poisonous gas was, Steve was glad nobody else seemed to suffer from it.

 

When he came to again, it was quiet.

Seriously.

He was getting a bit tired of this passing out thing already.

Steve could still hear the hum of machinery and the computers around him, indicating he was still in the same room. For his surprise, it seemed empty, like nobody else was in there. ** _"Good evening Sir."_**

Steve almost jumps upon hearing the artificial intelligence talk to him; he would never get used to it.

"Where are the others?"

_**"Sir Stark is on the central computer room, still trying to track down the hacker; Ms. Romanoff is currently aiding Mr. Banner at the room next to this."** _

"So they deemed the situation safe enough for now?"

_**"Yes; there haven’t been any further attacks for the past three hours, though everyone is still on high alert. For safety reasons, Mr. Stark isolated this area from rest of the tower, just to be sure."** _

"I see...thank you, I suppose."

_**"You're most welcome, sir."** _

Steve just lies there, unsure on what to do. He did not feel pained or sleepy anymore, but he had a feeling that his eyes were still in bad shape; he could tell the bandage around them was new. If they were better, Bruce would probably not have bothered to put another, equally firm one on. Suddenly, everything went quiet around him. "Jarvis?" There was no answer; all of the machinery seemed to be turned off all of a sudden.

For a second, Steve fears that the same thing had happened again.

Then, he feels a presence appear near him, and a familiar metallic touch slips behind his neck.

"You have to come with me." The Soldier's voice is quiet, but also a bit ordering.

"Why?"

Instead of replying, Steve feels as something damp is pressed against his face. The man struggles naturally, only to have the metal arm slip from behind his neck and grab his hands, forcing them above Steve's head to immobilize him. Whatever chemical was in that cloth, it worked fast, as he passed out soon, barely registering it when he was lifted off the bed like a rag-doll, again.

"Ain't got time for arguing or struggling with you."

The Soldier mutters as he carries Steve off, sensing the pair of green eyes of the redhead woman in his back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Another fic I've actually nearly written to completion. I still need to proof-read the chapters and all, but I decided to start posting this one too as I'm fairly happy with it.
> 
> This first chapter is probably longer than the rest. I will probably adjust the tags later on too once I know what exactly to put there. tagging is hard


	2. I'm not ready

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky Barnes is really pissed at his quote-on-quote boss right now  
> Out of all the things he could've asked him to do, babysitting Captain America had been his worst nightmare.  
> He did not want Steve to see him right now...  
> He's not ready.

He did not like the situation one bit, honestly.

When that damn Fury had told him about the plan, Barnes had said no.

He couldn't...he can't....he just can't do this!

But, as always, he'd sucked it up and went to pick up his 'cargo' from the tower.

Romanoff had helped him to sneak in and out as Fury had apparently told her to let him do it; she'd also distracted the doc so that he would not notice Barnes sneaking in and snatching the Captain right under his nose. He was thankful for her help, not wanting to bother with rest of the Avengers team, but he still wasn't happy that he had to do this. Drive home had been uncomfortable, as Rogers was heavy; having him lean against his body limp on a bike was uncomfortable as all hell, though not because of the weight; he could deal with really heavy objects.

Steve was no butterfly, but not the heaviest thing he'd dealt with either.

He just....did not want Steve close to him.

Not now.

He wasn't ready.

 

Some people had glanced at their direction while he drove, but giving the fact a lot of bars were open and drunken people could be seen in the streets, they'd probably assumed that Steve was his drunken buddy he was driving home, and shrugged it off. He'd counted on that, hence he'd chosen to snatch Steve late in the evening. Whatever the sedative he used was, it was pretty damn strong as the blond man actually slept through the night, and most of the next day as well, giving Barnes a lot of time to just pace around his apartment and try to settle the fuck down, as his thoughts raged like crazy.

Having the damn cats beg for attention by scratching his legs did not help much.

Normally, it would have been a welcome distraction from his thoughts, but right now it did not help at all. The coffee machine beeps; Barnes sighs, and goes to get himself a mug. The blond man shifts a little on the couch, indicating that he was coming to; Barnes sits down on to the kitchen table and drinks some of the hot drink - he did not bother putting any milk or sugar on it, he was used to pile of bitterness in his life.

As he watched the blond man shift more, Barnes felt his chest ache a bit.

He did not....he did not want to face Steve yet, but he could not just dump him somewhere else either.

One of the cats - the orange one he'd named Nat after Romanoff - was licking Steve's face, probably contributing to his awakening.

Damn cat, he needed more time to think. Sure, he'd had hours, but those had been generously wasted on silent panic.

Fuck his brain.

Then again, he should not have been so upset about it; he was used to being mind-fucked by now. It was just a tad different thing when it was caused by Steve compared to his original handlers, let alone being caused unwittingly. He just needed few more minutes - or hours - to properly gather his thoughts and think of something, just few more moments.

As expected however, the man was not granted with such mercy, as Rogers sucked in a deep breath and reflexively shoved the cat aside, which then sprinted to hide behind her master - Barnes' leg to be more exact. Slowly, the Blond man sits up, and then immediately reaches for the bandage, probably wanting to rip it off. The brunet did not blame him; not being able to see what was going on was pretty hellish. But, he could not let Steve do that.

"Don't touch it." He says, keeping his voice as neutral and cool as he could - the one he used during missions if he had to speak.

Barnes hoped it would mask his voice enough so that Steve would not recognize it.

It was pretty different from his Brooklyn tone after all, so different that it almost creeped him out.

It was kind of funny; before he'd been creeped out by his original tone as it felt alien, and nowadays it was vice versa.

The hands stop, and Steve turns his head towards Barnes' voice as expected.

"....where am I?"

"At my place."

The man takes a second to process that information, and then squares his jaw, clearly ready for an argument.

"Why?"

"Fury's orders; said you'd be safer around here." Barnes honestly felt it was bullshit, as if those guys were eager on offing Steve, they could find him even here. It was just that he could never bring himself to turn his back to Steve, not even when it honestly would have been better for them both. This has nothing to do with being ordered by Fury, as he never really had to do anything the man said; it was usually just more beneficial to him to do so.

This case honestly was not, but since he got so damn sentimental about it, even if only on subconscious level, Barnes had been unable to refuse this one time he should have. "Why didn't you just tell them that you'd bring me here? Why kidnapping?" Steve demands; all these years and he was still a stubborn mule. It would have been almost nostalgic if it had not been for the situation and the fact Steve was being a pain in the ass right now.

Luckily, Fury had predicted this reaction and given Barnes something useful, so that he did not have to try and convince Steve about anything himself.

Without a word, he brings out the small recording and plays it to the blond man.

_"Rogers, when you hear this I assume you are at his hiding hole; I decided it was better to bring you elsewhere than the damned tower as apparently you can't even trust Stark's tech anymore! Listen up and listen good, because this is an order; Stay. Out. Of. Sight. The Soldier will watch after your reckless ass for now, until Banner figures out a way to fix your bloody eyes. Don't get any dumb ideas either, because I did give him permission to smack some sense to your thick skull if needed. Just lay low. Romanoff will brief others about where you went."_

 

Barnes watches quietly as Steve listens to Fury's message with a slight frown, then sighs, his posture relaxing a tiny bit.

"He could have warned me beforehand, still."

"Trust me. I did not want to be your damned babysitter." Barnes grunts at him, a bit harsher than he intended, making Steve turn his head towards him again with a seemingly annoyed frown. "Believe me, with that attitude, the feeling is mutual; I'd rather not be here." It may have been just a spur of the moment, typical sharp tongue of Steve Rogers, but holy damn that hurt. The only good thing about it was that Barnes was fairly sure Steve did not recognize him yet. His monotone voice worked. Maintaining it for god knows how long was going to be the tricky part.

Then again, if he was going to be lucky, he'd be away for the most of it. Steve would probably do as Fury says, as going back to the tower would endanger civilians, let alone going back to his house. Steve would not purposefully take a risk to endanger innocents.

He in turn, still had his own shit to do; go see Wilson, perhaps do some missions if he got lucky.

Ain't that a riot? For the first time in years he'd rather be out on field than at his safe house.

"Why your place?" Barnes remains quiet, drinking his coffee again; Nat had climbed to his lap, and the man pets the cat absent-mindedly with his human hand. "Cause for most people in the world, the Winter Soldier is dead." There was a pause in the air, and Steve was clearly a bit confused about his words. Then he jumps a bit in surprise, as the other cat jumps on his lap.

"Don't shove him down; Punky might scratch you."

Steve lifts his head towards Barnes again, clearly not understanding what he meant. Barnes could not stop himself from rolling his eyes; it was kind of pointless as Steve could not see it, but he could not help himself. "A cat. Punky's my second cat. You shoved off Nat earlier." The damn blond had the gall to look surprised about him having furry friends. Then again, the first impression he'd given was probably not that of a nurturer. After a moment of hesitation, Steve brushes the light brown cat's fur gently, making it purr. Freaking traitor; usually Punky was wary around strangers.

"Nat? As in....Natasha?"

"Nah, just Nat; but she was named after her because her fur's gingery orange like Romanoff's hair."

Steve remained quiet, and Barnes suddenly realized he was being too talkative.

The man slaps himself mentally, unsure on what to do now. "I suppose...people can be very different at home than they are on field." Steve finally sighs diplomatically. The cat plays with his fingers a little, then jumps off and vanishes somewhere in the 'cat-room' as Barnes called the extra one he'd donated to the two as he had no use for it. Nat follows after a moment, though gives Steve a suspicious glance before doing so.

The cat was a lot like her namesake for sure. "Where are we exactly? Or am I not allowed to know?" Steve's tone was calmer now, though there was still this hidden stealth to it, as if he was expecting Barnes to be rude to him again, now that the cats were gone. The brunet could not stop the smirk spreading on his face; he tries to stop it at first, but then realizes it doesn't matter as Steve cannot see it anyway.

"New Jersey."

As expected, the blond man lets out a groan, and Barnes bites his lip not to chuckle. "Nah, not really; Brooklyn.”

The blond man halts and the man could just feel the sad nostalgia fill Steve to the brim. He'd felt the same way during the first months he'd stayed there - at that time, he only had few memories about the place, but those few alone had made him feel melancholic - and it almost made him smash his metal fist through a wall few times. Now it was....easier. Or it had been, until this damned stubborn punk had been picked up as an ice block from the Atlantic. He could still recall the mix of joy, shock and panic he'd felt the day that agent - what was his name again? - had informed him about the find.

After that, he'd followed on every newsreel and commentary, every story and Internet blog about Captain America to almost obsessive level. Most of the stuff there was garbage honestly, but at times there had been some actual bits of legit info.

He'd already had some memories on Steve then, but once he'd popped out of the ocean like Captain America Popsicle, a flood-gate had opened up in Barnes' head, until the sheer amount of memories - all fragmented and disoriented - almost drove him crazy.

"I see....I guess it's better than New Jersey." Steve finally comments, flinching as he mentions the place. Then he pauses for a second, licking his lips as if unsure about something.

".....So can you tell me your name at least, then? If I'm going to be stuck here for a while, I'd prefer to call you by a name rather than 'Winter Soldier' or 'Soldier." The brunet pauses, contemplating his options. He could just give out any fake name, but by chance Steve would ever hear him being called by his neighbor, or perhaps even Sam, maybe it was better to not lie about it.

His name was pretty common one anyway.

"James."

Steve goes stiff for a moment, and the brunet feels his heart leap to his throat; he prayed so damn hard in his head, that Steve would not connect the dots. Not yet. Please, not yet, I'm not ready. Eventually, his face shifts into that of melancholy, and Steve lets out a small, sad chuckle. "Knew a fellah with that name once." Jesus Christ, thank you, Barnes thinks in his head.

"I suppose I call you that, then."

"Don't really care." Barnes grunts, getting up from his chair. He had an appointment coming up within an hour, so he should get going soon.

"A little less hostility would be welcome as well, James; I doubt you want to have a tense atmosphere in your own house all the time." Steve comments with an icy tone, gaining a snort from the brunet, who was now pulling on his jacket. "Fucking used to it." Steve says nothing to that. "Where are you going?" He asks after a moment, as he could hear the man tugging on his jacket.

"Got an appointment. You might wanna stay put until I get back, as you don't know your way around."

Barnes could hear Steve huff out a bit, clearly not happy about the prospect, but he said nothing to that as Steve probably knew he had no choice for the matter right now.

As Barnes heads out of the door and to his bike, he pauses for a moment just to catch his breath; he was so tense. One of the few neighbors spots him just standing there, but says nothing; he was still half-convinced the three neighbors were Shield-agents Fury put there to watch after him, but so far they'd just kept their distance, probably sensing he was not very chatty person.

The woman just glances at him with a confused frown, before heading about her business. Barnes ignores her for now, his thoughts shifting back to the man currently hogging his couch for himself. Somehow, Steve had not recognized him, despite his voice probably sounding close to what it used to be. Barnes was not certain how long he could keep that up, and if he even wanted to. And if he did choose to come clean, how would Steve take it? He had no idea, and Barnes hated not knowing what to do. With a sigh, he puts his helmet on and starts his bike.

 

 

"You don't look so great, man." Sam comments as he closes the door to his office.

Second office to be exact, as normally Sam would be working from the Washington base, but for this current situation, Fury had asked the man to come and keep his meetings with Bucky at New York one instead so Barnes would not stray too far from his duty.

It wasn’t too big of a deal as Sam had had patients before where he’d had to travel elsewhere for a bit.

Plus, they rarely had these face-to-face meetings anyway.

As usual, James sat on the most shadowy corner of the room, hiding from view both from the window and the doorway. Sam had no fucking clue how he'd gotten in without being seen again - he'd jumped at least three feet to the air as he'd suddenly heard James' voice from the corner - but Sam had learned not to question it. "The cats giving you trouble?" The man questions and he sits down, keeping his voice quiet.

"Nah. I mean, Punky is a pain in the ass, always getting himself stuck on places, but it's not about that." The brunet mutters with a sigh, brushing through his long hair.

"Then what gives? A nightmare?"

"Wish it was that."

"Samuel.L.Jackson given you a bad task?"

There was a hint of a smile on James' face as Sam made that remark; Fury did look like that actor a little bit.

"Sort of. I'm on babysit duty."

"Oookay, that's a weird one."

"You tell me; I'm not the best person to guard life, you know. Usually I do the opposite."

There was a grim tone to James' voice, and Sam sighs a bit; naturally, he was aware of James' past somewhat, he'd been briefed the first time he'd been asked to take this job and the man himself had shared some things at times, but it was still a bit creepy hear him say it like that. "So why'd Fury assign you to this?" There was a pause in the air, and Sam could sense the man was contemplating his next words with care.

"I don't know really; I would not trust the life of a national icon to my hands." That made Sam pause, and he looks at James with lift eyebrow.

"National icon?"

"Captain - fucking - America." James huffs out sounding clearly frustrated and Sam's eyes widen.

"Cap....holy shit!" He actually stood up a bit and just stared at James, who shifts uncomfortably. Sam forces himself to sit down, knowing how James felt about staring. "I can see why you had....Captain America? Why? What the hell happened?" "Some Hydra chick dumped acidic poison on his face; damaged his eyes and apparently rest of his body." Sam remains quiet for a long time; he was fairly sure that James was not supposed to give him this much detail, but the brunet had thrown that rule out of the window a while back. Then again, with how the current media and general safety situation was with Shield's internal investigation and conflict, the word about Captain America being incapacitated would perhaps get out soon anyway.

Sam honestly preferred hearing it from a semi-friend rather than the overdramatic media.

"So Fury figured his life is in danger....why'd not just let his team take care of him?" James remains quiet for a while, glancing at the door, then at the window; there were no sounds or indications that they were being listened, but just in case, he takes out his modified pager - the thing Fury used to contact him - and types something with it, before showing it to Sam. He did that each time he felt it was better not to state his words out loud in fear of wrong people hearing them.

_"STARK SYSTEM GOT COMPROMISED. THEY GASSED ENTIRE A-TOWER."_

Sam's eyes widen in shock, but he forces himself to stay calm.

"I guess he has a good reason for it, then."

"Yeah; but....I wish he'd picked somebody else."

"Why?" 

James gazes at him quiet, then releases a slow sigh and rubs his eyes.

"Because....he's....he's the fellah I told you about." For a moment, there's a stunned silence, then Sam leans back in his chair, shaking his head for a moment. He'd had a hunch, honestly; James had never outright said it during their five years of knowing each other, but with the way he described his 'old pal' it always made Sam think of Steve Rogers, the way he'd been portrayed as, and even more so, once he'd actually met Cap himself. Still....

"So....You're not just any James; you're the James Barnes."

"Don't try ta' claim you didn't know."

"Well...I did kind of suspect it, but did not want to assume things."

Sam shrugs, but honestly, he was pretty damn baffled about the turn of events; he'd been having friendly chats with Captain America's war bound buddy for five years, and while he'd always suspected something akin to this, hearing James admit it was another thing entirely.

"So....you can guess why I'm iffy about this."

"Well....not really no; I mean, he's your friend, right? Would you not be happy to see him?"

James just stares at him quietly for a moment. Sam sighs, leaning forward on his chair to be eye-level with Barnes, as the chair he sat on was smaller. "Listen; I get that with all you've gone through, you might feel like you don't....deserve his friendship anymore, but I've known Steve for a while myself, and he seems like a pretty forgiving guy, honestly." James lets out a snort, and his entire posture was shifty and uncomfortable; he clearly did not enjoy talking about this.

Sam pressed on regardless.

"With the way you are putting this, I'm guessing he doesn't know it's you yet, right?" The man just nods. "You should tell him; pretending to be somebody else is gonna be hard on you both. Besides..." Sam pauses, looking aside as he considers his next words. "I can't be 100 per cent sure about this, but I get the vibe you're pretty damn important to him; when we had a chat about you the other day - just a mention, really, - the guy's face drooped like some sad puppy."

James' lips tighten, and Sam could see what he was thinking.

"I did not tell him about you - I mean, I wasn't entirely sure you were him - I only mentioned that I know a guy named James, and it's a common name." The man explains calmly with slightly defensive tone. He also backs away a bit, sensing as the aura around James darkens dangerously. "But you did mention me." It wasn't a question; more like a demand.

"I only said I knew a guy named James with PTSD and who likes to scare the shit out of me with his random appearances; there are plenty of soldiers like that. Granted, yours is probably the worst case I've seen."

For a moment, James just stares at him, but Sam remains calm; he'd never really been afraid if the man, despite knowing what he could do. It was kind of hard to fear a guy who complained about his two kittens and looked like a lost puppy most of the time. Plus, for the past five years James had only punched him twice with his metal arm, both cases accidents as he'd had a panic-attack and Sam had been too slow to dodge it. Finally, the brunet sighs and looks down, grasping the metal hand hidden beneath black leather glove uneasy.

"I just....I can't bring myself to tell Steve. It's not that he'd hate me or anything....he would just....blame himself. I don't want that."

"So you're trying to protect his feelings or something?"

"He already got his eyes almost burned off and looks like he can barely stand on his own; don't wanna add mental trauma to it."

James huffs, staring at his metallic palm. Sam remains quiet; he could see James' reasoning behind it, but he also knew the man was bullshitting himself. He was not trying to protect Steve from guilt; he was scared and struggling with his own. The problem was that James probably knew it; he knew how big of a horse-shit lie he was telling to himself, but was unable to stop it.

"Look, all I'm gonna say is that pretending ain't gonna be easy, even if his eyes are busted. Steve's gonna recognize you eventually, and when he does, he'll want to know why you hid it. That's gonna make things even harder." James looks up at Wilson with a bit desperate expression. He knew it. He fucking knew it would make things difficult, but.... "I can't, Sam. I just...fucking CAN'T. Steve deserves a better friend then me."

The man sighs, shaking his head as he leans back in the chair. "Stubborn piece of shit let me tell you..."

Sam was right with that, honestly.

 

 

By the time he got back, Steve had fallen asleep to the couch, with both cats now curled on top of him. It would have been almost a cute sight, had he not felt so uneasy about the whole situation. As he closes the door quietly, the cats stir, and then jump down from Steve softly, coming to greet him. He crouches down and pets Nat's head, making the female cat purr.

Punky naturally wanted to get some as well, that damn attention seeker, so the cat clawed his sleeve, making James roll his eyes as he pet the blond cat as well. He heard something shift, and after a moment, he heard Steve's confused and tense voice; "James, that you?"

"Who else? Did you really think my hiding skills were so poor that Hydra already found your sorry ass?"

He barely remembers to reset his speech to neutral, nearly slipping out the Brooklyn accent that came naturally. Steve huffs, clearly disapproving his tone, and sit up properly. He rubs the skin below the bandage covering his eyes a bit, as it was itchy. "You can never be too sure." The brunet says nothing to that just goes to put some food up to the two cats, who circled around their cups clearly hungry.

He wonders if he should make some food for Steve as well, honestly; the guy probably hadn't eaten for a while.

"What time is it?" Steve asks after a while of rubbing his skin - James wondered if the bandage should be replaced before the moron accidentally rubbed it off - and the brunet glances at the clock.

"Ten past six in the evening."

Steve seemed a little surprised by that. "That late? ....How long did I sleep?"

"Well, given you were awake when I left - which was around two in the noon or so – around four hours."

As he glances at Steve while putting the coffee on, he noted the man seemed a bit embarrassed for some reason.

All these years and the damn punk still blushed easily.

It was kind of glorious and...Familiar to look at. He also seemed frustrated with himself, probably tired of dozing off every other second and sleeping for long hours without even realizing it. "The poison really must've done a number; I don't usually get this cozy in an unknown place." James hums a little, walking for the bathroom to get the first aid kit. He did not have much knowledge on this gas or whatever it was, but he knew a thing or two on how to treat burns or a rash, and apparently Steve's injuries were something akin to that nature.

"You might want to sit up properly; I'll fix that before you rub through it and bleed all over my couch with your bloody tears again." Steve pauses, his head turned towards him with a slight surprised and a bit uneasy look. He did not blame Steve at all. "What? Are you worried I'll stab you in the eye like I did with that Hydra goon you scolded me about?" Steve remains quiet, but his tense jaw and stiff posture said exactly that.

"Relax; Fury would not have assigned me for this if he thought I was going to slice your throat open the second you drop your guard."

He says casually, while cutting an appropriate length of bandage from the roll, and placing the rest back to the kit. He also grabs the salve he knows will help the irritation, and sits in front of Steve. There is a brief second of unease, as James knows if Steve's vision suddenly works again right now, he will see his face. The odds for that were minuscule however, so the brunet swallows down his nervousness, and carefully reaches for the bandage.

Steve flinches a bit as his fingers brush his skin, but it doesn't seem to be because of pain or fear. "You might feel tempted to try and look around, but I don't recommend it; your eyes are probably still so sore that the light will hurt them." Slowly, he removes the bandage, and is honestly a bit horrified at what he saw; Steve's eyelids, the skin around his eyes and upper part of the nose looked burned and scarred, even a bit swollen.

Some bits were red, and the skin was flaking.

He'd seen that around his forehead and jaw too, but those areas had mostly healed already.

His eyes hadn't, perhaps because they'd taken a head-on hit.

The second the bandage is off, Steve squeezes his eyes shut, as James had been right; even the lights filtered by his eyelids stung like burning needles, only that squeezing his eyes did not help much as it also hurt. James looks around, then grabs the cat toy at his feet and throws it at the light switch. With his incredible precision, it hits the switch right on and lights turn out, easing Steve's agony a bit.

"Can you...work under this little light?"

"I'm only going to put some salve on your face to ease the burning, before wrapping your head up again; it's not heart surgery."

Steve lets out a snort, but remains still, allowing James to brush the cooling cream onto his eyelids. He used his human hand, knowing it was better when it came to this kind of stuff as it had more input than just pressure; using the other one could potentially result in him poking Steve's eyes out accidentally - they seemed to still exists under his eyelids, rather than being a puddle of eye-goop.

Now that thought was so disturbing that James had to pause and shake his head just to force the image out of his mind.

The blond man does flinch a tiny bit, as the burnt and scarred areas were sore, but he mostly remains still. It was kind of ridiculous how...trusting he was right now, despite knowing what James could do.

Once he's done, the brunet grabs the bandage and carefully wraps it around Steve's eyes, noting that the blond man shivered a bit as he moved closer to reach behind his head. James looks at Steve for a moment once he's finished, noting that there was a hint of surprise on Steve's face, like he still found it a little hard to believe he could actually be gentle. "Don't rub on it too much; I don't have enough bandages left to replace it today, so if you screw it up, your eyes can sting for all I care." The brunet remarks with a snarky tone, and Steve shakes his head, looking miffed again.

James gets up as he hears the coffee machine beep, and pours himself a cup.

After a moment of hesitation, he glances at Steve. "Want one?" Steve seems a little baffled at first, but then he seems to smell the coffee, and nods after a moment of hesitation. James pours Steve a cup as well, and brings it to him, helping Steve grasp it. It had no sugar and just a drop of milk, the way Steve liked it if he recalled right. He usually drank his black. Steve holds the cup, but his hands shake a bit, and James lets out an annoyed huff.

"Really? You suddenly grown so old you can't hold your own mug?"

"For my defense, I am in fact past ninety." Steve replies instantly with an equally snippy tone.

James just rolls his eyes, knowing Steve cannot see it, and places his metal hand beneath Steve's and the cup to help him hold it.

"Probably the poison; I doubt scarring your face was the only thing that stuff did." He comments as if to erase his earlier snippy comment. Steve seemed a bit...confused by his behavior, but apparently chose not to question it right now, as he accepted his help wordlessly. He probably did not want hot coffee all over his pants. Steve sips it carefully as it was still steaming warm, and as expected, the warm air raising from the cup made his face flush again.

He seemed...again a little taken aback by the fact he'd somehow known how Steve liked to drink his. "Read your files before; you'd be surprised about the things they cover." James explains it away while drinking his coffee in a larger gulp; it had cooled enough to not downright burn his tongue when he did that. "Even how I like my coffee?"

"From your coffee preferences, to color of your boxers, to your shoe-size."

Steve's face gained color again, and it was clearly not because of the steam.

"Sounds a bit stalkerish."

"What do you think my job is, aside from stabbing people in the face?"

Steve goes quiet, and remains quiet for the rest of the duration of his coffee-portion. Once his cup is almost empty, James takes it from his hands and puts it on the sink. He also pours his leftovers down, as it had gone too cool, for he'd been too focused on watching Steve drink his. Punky and Nat were now both back on the couch, and they both seemed to be more used to Steve now, as they instantly cuddled up next to him.

Steve just brushes both of the cat's fur a bit, a faint smile on his lips. Was it weird that he suddenly felt bloody jealous over fucking kittens? James shakes his head with a sigh and rubs his eyes. "Thank you; I honestly feel a bit better now that you...replaced my bandage." Steve suddenly says with a very sincere tone, and James felt his heart creak dangerously. He keeps his tone neutral however, not showcasing any of his inner turmoil to Steve.

"Just doing my job, Rogers. What I said about rubbing that one off still stands."

The blond man says nothing to that, just keeps petting the orange female cat that had climbed to his lap.

That night, James slept restlessly; he kept dreaming about Hydra showing up to his doorstep, forcing him to watch as they poured the acid all over Steve, making him writhe in pain until he stopped moving.

A hand grabs his hair and an echo from the past whispers to his ear;

_"It doesn't matter where you run, Soldier; we will always find you."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter. I did not have to edit much about this one either, aside from trying to fix typos  
> So yeah. Meet Nat and Punky. Kitten versions of Natasha and Steve  
> I've actually drawn them already once: http://winterglace.deviantart.com/art/Kittens-648177660


	3. Hot n' cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James was a confusing man; one moment he was crude, the next he was almost nice. Steve could not wrap his head around it. Also, there was something....familiar about this guy.

The Winter Soldier confused him.

Most of the time, Steve could not quite make out what kind of person he was; one moment the man was really harsh and rude at him, the next he was gentle and almost chivalrous, helping Steve even when he did not ask it.

Sure, James always gave a snarky remark when he did that, but it felt like he was just trying to hide something behind the attitude.

So far, he had not heard anything about his friends, but since Iron Man had not come flying down from the skies, or Hulk wrecked through the place, Steve assumed they knew what was going on and chose to leave him be - that, or the Soldier's hiding-place was just that good they had not found it yet.

It had been a week since he'd been there, and Steve had somewhat learned the house's layout despite not having his eyesight in his disposal; the apartment had two separate rooms - James' bedroom and a smaller room where the cats seemed to stay most of the time - and combined kitchen and living room area, as well as a small bathroom next to the bedroom door.

The furniture was pretty minimal aside from the basics such as the whole kitchen area; all James seemed to have been one couch, a coffee table, small, round kitchen table with one chair, some sort of stand for the TV and a bed for himself in the bedroom, naturally.

There was also a small nightstand with a lamp on it next to the bed, and Steve could've sworn he felt something like a gun beside the lamp as well. Most people would have extra things like cabinets, vases, extra shelves and other functional or decorative items, or even two couches, but while he did have a mat beneath the couch and the coffee-table, there really were no other items in the apartment.

Even Steve had more things in his, and he had always been labeled minimalistic by his fellow Avengers, especially Tony.

Steve had no clue what was in the 'cat-room' though, as he never went there, so he might have been wrong about the amount of things in the apartment. During the first days, Steve had kept hitting himself on those things mentioned, especially the coffee table or the couch, so James had moved them a little to give him a bit more space to move around, while still keeping them at arm's reach for Steve. He'd done it secretly, while Steve'd been sleeping, but the man had noticed.

When asked, James simply said that he liked to 'change things around' a bit at times.

Steve could not honestly understand why he was trying to hide this kind side from him; the mere fact his cats seemed to be fond of their master indicated he was nurturer. It did not always translate to human relationships naturally, but it was clear as day to the blond man that James was in all likeness treating him about as good as his cats - minus the snippy remarks and rudeness.

Then again...he did curse to his cats a lot, the only difference was they did not care like Steve did.

Perhaps he was not trying to hide anything at all from Steve, and he was just used to being loud-mouthed about things without hurting anyone's feelings as usually his companions did not care about him cursing at them.

Currently, Steve was sitting on his usual spot at the couch with a blanket wrapped over him as he felt a bit feverish - he'd felt weak and sick the whole week honestly, perhaps another side-effect of his ordeal - and he could hear the music playing from a radio somewhere around the kitchen area. James had surprisingly varying taste; anything from more modern pop songs to older, classic rock, he listened to almost anything.

The man did seem to prefer more melancholic songs though; those with either sad lyrics, or tunes, or both. He did have some limits though; if the song felt too happy, or in his words, 'sugary and air-headed,' he'd change the channel as he found those songs annoying and meaningless.

Steve was holding a cup of tea in his hand, which James had given him earlier; stating simply that coffee had ran out.

Steve had a feeling he'd chosen to give him tea instead, as coffee had made Steve's stomach upset earlier, but as usual, the man refused to admit that he'd done something out of concern for Steve's comfort. It was honestly a bit strange to have your body react so...'normally' to things, as Steve had been so used to not feeling sick or nauseous almost ever.

The good sign was that the overall nausea did not get worse or anything, just lingered at the same level it had started as.

It was probably the only reason why James had not tried to make up an excuse to bring him back to the tower for Banner to check on him.

He'd probably do that soon, though, if Steve's condition kept staying as it was.

Neither of them really knew how the poison exactly worked, and if this was an aftermath or an ongoing effect created by a still-active toxic substance within him. Steve could feel his blue eyes at him at times, in fact. He could not see the man's expression, but could somehow sense those glances were concerned ones. Everything about this felt a little...familiar, but Steve was not quite sure why.

"Drink that before it gets cold."

After a moment, Steve realizes the man referred to his tea, and Steve sipped it, noting it was no longer that hot. "Has Fury given you any briefing on how the research on...my situation is doing? Or just in anything at all?"

"He'll tell me once there's something to say; most likely he'll just ask me to dump you back in the tower once Banner's cooked up his miracle cure."

Steve remains quiet, stirring his tea a bit; it was pointless as it was already just warm, but he did it out of habit. He felt a little nervous, but decided to try and test the waters again. ".....I've wanted to ask you this, but..."

"I am not interested in sharing my story with you." James shots him down instantly like Steve had expected; he always did when the blond seemed like he wished to ask something personal.

This time however, Steve persists, sensing from his tone that James was getting a little tired of denying him answers and the constant curiosity.

"It's really just...about Tony; I always wondered why he was so hostile towards you at that one moment." There was silence in the room, and Steve could hear James shift in his chair, releasing a slow sigh. For a moment, neither of them spoke, and Steve could hear one of the cats - Punky? - Meow out, sounding confused. Well, if cats could sound confused that is.

"I did something bad." The blond was honestly surprised about his response; while he'd sensed he was growing tired of denying answers from Steve, the man had not expected him to open up, even if just this vaguely.

"Bad?"

He could hear James shift again, as if he was uncomfortable.

"Yeah. I did not...I did not do it out of my own volition. But I did it." There was a clear hint of guilt in his voice, and Steve could only wonder what that meant, as James did not explain it any further, just gets up and vanishes somewhere. Probably his bedroom as Steve could hear his steps head behind the couch, where the bedroom door was. There was another confused meow, and Steve could feel one of the cats jump in his lap.

It was definitely Punky, Steve had learned to identify the two cats from one another pretty quickly; Punky was younger so he was a bit smaller, and his fur was a bit fluffier than Nat's.

According to James, Punky was also light brown, almost blonde so to say, and not ginger like Nat.

They both seemed fairly calm and at home, though Punky was clearly more curious and loved to explore a lot more, as he moved around a lot, whereas Nat often stayed sleeping on Steve's lap or nearby him when James wasn't home. Punky still seemed to be the one more fond of Steve thought, as he always came to examine the man whenever he could. Suddenly, Steve hears a crash and turns his head towards the bedroom, while the two cats sprint to hide in their own.

"James?"

For a moment there was silence, and then Steve could hear faint cursing in Russian.

He hears the man step out of the bedroom, and the aura around him was tense. "Yeah?" Even his voice was tense. "....are you...?" "Yeah; just broke the lamp on the nightstand; damned thing was too close to the edge." Steve could tell from his voice the man was lying, but Steve was not sure why he did so. Steve could hear some more cursing - this time in English - and then sound of footsteps heading to the bathroom.

After a few moments of hesitation, Steve gets up shakily, keeping his hand touching the couch to orient himself; he knew the bathroom was few meters away from the couch's armrest, and sure enough, after few hesitant steps, he feels the wooden surface of the bathroom door. It was partially open, so Steve pushes it further, cautiously. He could not see what was going on, but he could hear the man rustle around and curse under his breath. Steve could also make out the sound of scissors and smell some sort of antiseptic. Then, he hears a thud, indicating that James had sat on the floor to work on his cuts. Steve remains quiet for a moment and listens to James pick out the glass with occasional curse words escaping his lips, both in Russian and English.

"Did you hurt yourself?"

There was a pause in the air and Steve could imagine his voice had surprised the brunet.

"Yeah, cut myself on the damn glass-shards when I tried to pick them up." James' voice was highly tense, as if he was caught doing something he shouldn't.

"...need help?" The brunet snorts, predictably.

"You're fucking blind, Rogers; I doubt you've learned enough tricks to help me out with this without your eyesight." His tone was snarky as always, but also a bit trembling. He sounded like he'd been shaken by something. "A lot of blind people cope with daily life just fine, mind you."

"Those guys had months or years of practice to come to terms with their situation; your eyes have been out of use for barely a week or so."

"I learn fast." Steve answers calmly, as he steps in to the bathroom properly.

It was small, so moving was a bit difficult, but Steve also found it easier to find his way around. James had sat down on the floor next to the bathtub, and as Steve crouched in front of him, he felt the first aid kit between them, as well as small tweezers that James had probably used to pick out some of the glass-shards. There was also some sort of cloth that had sticky substance on it; the man had probably been using that to clean his hand, as there were bits of glass stuck to that piece of canvas alongside the blood.

Cautiously, Steve feels around for another cloth and the antiseptic bottle, putting some of the liquid on the clean canvas once he finds it. He was fairly sure James could do this by himself, but the way he felt...tense and uneasy, it made Steve want to do it for him. Perhaps he worried the man would just end up hurting himself more accidentally, or something.

"Give me your hand; I'm pretty sure I can do this by feel." After a moment of hesitation, Steve felt something warm touch his hand, and he was almost taken aback by the amount of blood he felt covering it; it was clear the man had not hurt his hand while picking glass shards up; rather, he'd punched something made out of it. Probably the said lamp, as Steve could recall a lamp sitting on the nightstand next to the bed with glass-like surface on it.

Carefully, Steve brushes his fingers over the wounds, noting that the glass shards that probably were lodged in his palm were already taken out, which was honestly good as he probably would not have been able to do that part himself. That was maybe also the reason James had agreed Steve to continue, as he could actually do this part 'by feel' as Steve put it.

He proceeds to use the antiseptic-covered cloth to further wipe away the blood and clean the leftover wounds and slashes.

James was very quiet this whole time, but Steve could feel his eyes on him.

His hand was warm.

Eventually, Steve felt no more blood on the hand he held, so the man reaches down for the first aid-kit he knows is next to him, and by chance his fingers find the bandage cloth instantly. "These seem to be just minor slashes so I don't think you need stitches - though since I cannot actually literally see them, feel free to correct me." The blond man says with a chuckle, gaining no response.

He took it as he was right, for James would probably have voiced it out, if he was doing something wrong.

Slowly, Steve wraps the bandage around the slashed hand, wondering if he should ask what really had happened. Once he's done, Steve lets go of the hand slowly, and then feels James shift and pick up the kit, muttering something about having to get more Band-Aid, then slipping the first-aid away to some shelf and closing the door. Steve grabs the edge of the bathtub, slowly pulling himself to his feet. He had been in the bathroom only once during this week, so he wasn't that familiar with its layout yet, though so far he could tell the tub was on the left side, whereas the sink was on the right corner.

As he stood however, a wave of dizziness passed over him, and Steve almost stumbled, only to be caught by a metal arm that reached out to quickly grasp his, and James tugs him back to his feet, before slipping the metallic limb around his waist in a supportive manner.

"Don't go knocking your head open on my bathtub; blood is hard to clean off." James grunts at him, but there was a hint of concern in his tone he was apparently unable to hide. Or as Steve had thought before, perhaps he wasn't trying to hide it; he was just used to being crude with his words.

"Wasn't going to....I guess I stood up too fast." Steve lets out a sheepish laugh as James drags him out of the bathroom and puts him back down to the couch. His entire body shivered, and Steve felt feverish again: it had vanished momentarily as he'd focused on taking care of James' wound, but now it was back. Steve tugged the blanket around him, trying to surpass his shivers. The blue eyes were still locked on him, and Steve could feel James' shadow hover over him, as if the man was not sure what to do. "Now we're even." Steve manages to mumble out with a smile; Christ he felt dizzy.

"What?"

"You helped changing my bandage; I patched up your hand." Steve explains with a smile.

For a moment, there is just silence, then he hears the brunet let out a shaky sigh, and walk off to the bedroom to probably clean the mess he made there. After a moment, one of the cats - Punky again - jumps on Steve's lap and he carefully pets the kitten's head, gaining a purr. James seemed a bit surprised and annoyed about how quickly his cats had warmed up to Steve. Truth to be told Steve was a bit surprised as well about it; the man could act really hostile at times, so one would think the cats would see him as a threat to their master as the master did not like him.

Except that it did not seem to be the case at all, and the felines sensed it.

Perhaps his assumption about James just being used to voice out his thoughts bluntly while still being kind in his own way was the truth, and that made the cats okay with Steve. Then again, he did not know much about cats so who he was to say?

 

That night, Steve's sleep was restless; his nightmares were back, only this time it was not about the Chitauri.

It was about Bucky.

He was always standing somewhere afar, and each time Steve almost reached him, he vanished like a ghost.

He was never fast enough, never close enough to stop him from disappearing. Just when his fingertips were about to brush Bucky's shoulder, he vanished, leaving Steve alone in the dark again. After a while, he just stopped. He could see Bucky in the distance, but...his legs felt like led, his heart was creaking out of its place. He was too tired. He couldn't....he would not make it in time, so what was the point? Steve just watched helplessly, as the figure further away started fading.

Bucky was now facing him, looking at him with that horrible, betrayed look.

_"Why'd you leave me hanging, Stevie? Weren't we supposed to be friends?"_

Steve tries to answer, but his words die in his throat.

_"I guess I meant a lot less to you than you did to me, huh?"_

The tone had shifted to a bitter, almost malicious one, and Steve wanted to say something, explain himself, but he couldn't.

His voice had dried out from his throat, is if he'd lost his ability to speak rather than eyesight.

_"Is that it, Rogers? You stopped trying cause I did not mean much to you, huh?"_

Bucky's voice began echoing around Steve sharply, like knives thrown at him.

No, that's not true! Bucky listen to me!

The noise was deafening.

Far away, Steve could hear the echo of a train whistle, and a scream of somebody at the end of their life.

 

 

Steve sits up abruptly, his chest heaving, tears trailing down his face.

From the sting, he could tell there was probably some blood mixed in again, but he did not care about the pain right now; he just buried his face into his palms, taking in few shaky breaths. There was a soft touch of a paw on his leg, and a confused meow. Punky had walked to him and was now sitting next to his leg, seemingly confused on why Steve was shaking.

Cautiously, Steve picks the cat up to his lap, and the kitten cuddles against him.

Its presence somehow helped the blond man to calm down, and he just focused on petting the cat, until his breathing was calm again. This was probably one of the reasons James had these two; he came off as somebody with traumas, so he had these pets to calm him down. After a moment, Steve realized that he'd probably gotten some of the bloody tears on the kitten now, and instantly felt bad. James would perhaps think the cat got injured and get worried or mad. Another meow beside the couch indicated that the female feline was there too, and after a while, it jumped next to Steve as well, and then climbed to settle next to the smaller kitty.

Steve lets out a shaky sigh and smiles; he could not see the cats, but he could imagine how cute they looked.

".......Did you just smear blood on my cats?"

Steve jumps up a bit, suddenly hearing James' tone right next to him.

From the way the couch shifted, Steve figured the man was leaning over the backrest of the couch. He did not sound angry however, contrary to what Steve had feared.

"Sorry, I..."

"Don't."

James' tone was tired, and he lets out a sigh, vanishing somewhere for a moment. Then, as he came back, Steve could hear him tell his cats to 'bugger off' for now, and the man sat down next to Steve. After a second, there was a damp cloth pressed against his cheek, as James wiped the blood trails away. "You seem to love bleeding all over the place, Rogers."

"I didn't exactly choose this."

"Didn't choose to have a fucking metal arm sewed on me, yet here I am: don't get so bloody defensive on me, seriously." Steve goes quiet for a second. "Why you insist on being so....crude? It doesn't feel like it's..." Steve honestly wanted to know if his assumptions were correct, or if the man truly was trying to hide his true self from Steve.

 

The cloth pauses, hovering over his left cheek. "Tell you the truth; somebody like me should not be near you."

"What do you mean?" That did not sound like either of the two choices Steve had considered. There was an annoyed huff, and the cloth rubs on his cheek a bit harsher than before. "You aren't that dumb, Rogers; you saw what I can do. Why don't you put two and two together?" Steve remains quiet, until his other cheek is brushed - or more like rubbed - clean.

"That is....I also don't understand it; what made you so violent?"

"People."

The hollow, haunted tone James used when saying that word causes Steve to tilt his head confused. He senses the man stand up and walks to his kitchen, opening something - probably the door hiding the trashcan - and closing it again. "You.....I suppose Natasha briefed you about me the first time." James states after a moment of tense silence.

Based on his voice, Steve figured his back was turned. "Yes; she said you were an unofficial Shield-member."

"Did she also mention who I used to 'work' for before this?" Steve pauses, confused about the question.

He could hear the man shift, probably turning to face Steve now. The atmosphere was unnerving, and the blond man had a feeling he was going to hear something he did not like. "Hydra. Before I was.....brought to Fury, I used to work as an assassin for Hydra." Steve is unable to prevent the shocked gasp leave his throat, and he just sits there, dumbfounded. Suddenly....he saw the excessive violence from the man in a whole different light, and not necessarily a better one.

"They....they made me........" James huffs out a breath, clearly trying to collect himself.

"....how many?" Steve asks after a moment of tense silence.

"Too many. Can't fucking..... Some of which I used to know!" Steve heard something hit against a hard surface, and figured the man had slammed his metal palm against the kitchen counter in frustration, probably at least denting it. This revelation was....Steve suddenly understood the meaning behind Natasha's words, when he'd asked her if she thought this man was trustworthy.

"...Why did you do it then, if you....?"

"Because I had no fucking choice! I..."

The man falls silent, and for a moment, it almost sounded like his breathing was hitching up to dangerous levels. For a second, Steve worries he was going to collapse into a panic attack of some sorts. Eventually though, the high-paced gasping noises disappear, as James manages to ground himself again. "Don't ask me about this, please." He mutters out, his voice raw like a bleeding wound.

Steve could now see a bit of the man hidden under the snarky comments and tendency to belittle him. He was broken, badly so if the panicked breathing and tone was anything to go by. Now Steve felt like an absolute piece of garbage for asking those questions, and wanted to slap himself. "....I'm... sorry. I...I should not have poked into your business when you clearly did not wish to share it." Steve's tone is gentle and apologetic.

While he could not actually physically look at James, the still tilted his head away from his direction out of shame reflexively, like he would have done if they were having actual eye-contact.

"...Don't. Out of all the people, you don't get to apologize to me, Rogers!"

James almost snarls at him suddenly, startling Steve with the intense hostility.

"....I don't know what you have gone through exactly - and I won't ask anymore, as you clearly don't wish to talk about it - but...you should not push people's kindness away so quickly." Steve says with a calm, tentative tone. He felt he had to say this, even if it probably made James just more upset.

"......It's not...I did not mean it like that."

The man finally mutters with a defeated tone, his anger pushed out of him.

"Then what did you mean?"

James remains silent, but Steve could feel his eyes on him again. Steve could not see his face, which the man was thankful of as his expression was breaking; he was losing his composure so badly right now, and gripped the counter so tightly behind him to prevent himself from....he wasn't exactly sure what. As James kept silent, the blond man finally releases a slow sigh.

"Thanks for wiping my face; I could have probably found a way to do it myself, though, but still."

James just stares at him, counting to ten in his head while his heart raced.

......He should probably go and clean the damn cats from the blood Steve smeared on them.

 

 

 

Having Natasha call him was a surprising welcome.

James had suddenly just walked to him, holding a phone and telling him to answer it. "Is this safe? The phone call could be traced." Steve questions instantly as he recognizes Natasha's voice.

_"I'm calling from a public phone, and wearing a disguise; James' phone number is only known by me, James' shrink, and Fury, though I'm the only one who would ever call him as Fury uses that pager thing to contact him, and James is the one who calls his support-person and not vice-versa."_

"I see...how are things?"

There is a sigh at the other end, indicating trouble.

_"Tony was pretty upset about Fury not trusting him, but even he had to admit this was probably a better idea. How are you? Is James behaving?"_

"He's....confusing, though I may understand why now, at least a little bit."

Steve could imagine the woman's face twist into a frown as she asks him to clarify. "He....he's pretty rude and anti-social fellah most of the time, but then he's also got is....nurturing side as well, which kind of conflicts with my previous info. I figured it could either be because he's just used to being crude while doing nicer things as he curses to his cats a lot, or he was hiding something from me. It turns out it might be a bit of both, actually."

Natasha lets out a small laugh apparently not that surprised about Steve's words.

_"Yeah; he's got two sides; the light and dark side. I noticed the same when..."_

the woman pauses, and the blond man could tell she was about to say something he wasn't supposed to hear.

Another one of her secrets.

Steve decided to test the waters and see if he got anywhere. Right now, he was sitting on James' bed. The man himself was on the living room, watching TV to give Steve some privacy with the call. "He told me a little bit about his past. About his association with Hydra." Steve could hear the line go silent for a moment.

_"....What did he tell you exactly?"_

"That he...worked for them as an assassin. He did not elaborate, but I got the vibe it wasn't out of free will." Natasha releases a slow sigh, and her next words are gentle. " _No, it definitely was not."_

"....what did they do to him, Nat? I...want to understand so that I don't accidentally bring up bad memories again."

The woman remained quiet for a long moment, and Steve worried she might hang up. Finally though, her voice breaks the silence again. _"He...remember what happened to Barton when Loki was causing trouble back in 2012?"_

"What about it?"

_"James....magnify what happened to Barton times a hundred, and have it done by humans with more arcane methods and make it last over fifty-to-sixty years. That is crudely what happened to him."_

Steve falls silent; he knew Hydra could be....but something like this was beyond the worst things he could picture. The fact it was a very vague description still made it all worse. Also...this meant...this meant James was older than he looked. That honestly was the least surprising and disturbing part, though; he knew quite a few people who looked younger than they were, including himself.

"Brainwashing? Oh my God...."

 _"Not just that. Look, I'd love to explain this more, but....it doesn't feel right for me to spill out his story without James' permission. He will share his story with you if he wants to."_ Natasha's tone was apologetic, but also stern; she did not want Steve to pressure her to reveal more, and the man respected that.

They exchanged few more words, just generally Steve updating on his condition - no change regarding to his eyesight, but the feverish feeling was going away, which according to Natasha was a good thing - and eventually he closes the phone, just sitting there silently.

After a moment, he could hear the door open, and footsteps stopping next to him.

A hand brushed Steve's fingers and picked the phone away from his grasp gently. James was harsh with his words and attitude, but each time he touched Steve, he was very, very gentle, almost hesitant to do so. Well, aside from that moment of frustration last evening, when Steve had accidentally poked on a sore spot. The morning had been a bit tense, and Steve had a feeling Natasha had called him because James asked her to; the timing was kind of convenient, given the fact it gave Steve a chance to learn more about him, without the need from James to say anything.

It made Steve feel he actually wanted to share his story somehow, but could not do it by himself for one reason or another.

As the brunet did not make a move to leave, Steve tilted his head somewhat towards the man. "I can make my way back to the living room myself." There was a snort, and the strange tenseness broke, as James moved aside a bit, letting Steve get up.

"Sure, grandpa; please do tell me if you need somebody find your teeth."

It was a very half-hearted jab, and clearly not what the man really wanted to say, but whatever was on his mind, James was unable to voice it out, so he just watched as Steve made his way to the living room, using the bed and the walls as a reference point. Once Steve sat down, he noted James had been watching a newsreel discussion regarding to Shield's situation.

The two anchors were speculating about whenever any of the organization could be trusted, and even aimed few jabs at the founders, including Peggy and Howard.

That made Steve's blood boil, but before he could even start searching for the remote, James had already grabbed it and changed the channel. There was some random nature documentary on, not that Steve cared; he was just glad not having to listen to the media basically insulting his late close friend, and the woman he'd loved.

"Fucking bullshit. Seriously."

Steve turns his head towards James, surprised to hear him curse like that; the man seemed equally annoyed about the media coverage as he did.

Next, he feels James slump to sit next to him, so close that Steve felt his metallic shoulder brush against his. It made him shift away a bit reflexively. James doesn't seem to notice or care about it. For a moment, they both sit there in silence. Steve still felt James wanted to say something, but was unable to form the words needed. It was starting to get uncomfortable, honestly; plus his eyes had started to itch again, probably because of the bits of blood he had on the bandage from last evening. He tried his hardest not to try and rub it, but eventually his hand reached up involuntarily.

Then, a metal hand grasps his wrist, stopping him. James' reflexes were ridiculously fast. "Fucking no, Rogers. Not that hard to understand." The man says, not really looking at him. "The dried blood in there probably itches."

"Don't have new cloth to wrap around your sorry face." James grunts, but then gets up, heading somewhere.

Steve knew what he was going to do even before the brunet sat back down and told him to keep his eyes closed. The blond felt the bandage unravel again slowly, and he felt the familiar sting that light caused, though it wasn't as bad as before. James did something - probably tried to clean some of the dried blood off from the bandage itself - before applying some of the pain- and rash-easing salve on his eyelids again.

The man was very gentle with it as usual, trying to avoid poking Steve's eyes uncomfortably.

"The skin looks bit better." He suddenly states absent-mindedly, as his fingers stop to rest on Steve's left cheekbone for a moment. It was intriguing how James was so good at two extremely different things; he was great at excessive violent acts - such as stabbing someone's eyes out or shooting them in the face with incredible accuracy - as well as tentative gentleness, having his touch be so gentle it would be hard to imagine him to be capable of hurting a fly.

It made Steve think; perhaps the brutality he witnessed was in fact the side installed in this man trough brainwashing, and the nurturing side was his true self shining through it all.

Maybe the crudeness was really just a result of these both combining somehow, and he'd always been a potty-mouth and blunt, hell if Steve knew.

Still, though..... How had Hydra managed to turn somebody seemingly kind into a brutal monster was beyond him, but Steve knew he should not be so surprised about it; those monsters had their ways and excessive methods. After James was done, he wrapped the bandage back on again, probably making a mental note on getting more of it. Then, his human hand stopped against Steve's cheek, sort of just holding the fingertips against his skin.

Soon, Steve could feel the cold, metallic ones touch the other side of his face the same manner.

For a moment, James just held his hands there, watching Steve quietly. The gesture was gentle, but also really, really strange. Then, the touch drifted away from him, and as James got up, Steve abruptly realized his cheeks must've been fuming a little. He brushes his face uneasy and rubs his neck, confusion settling in his mind. "I gotta go get more cat-food, and probably more cloth to wrap your face in." James mutters out as he tugs on his jacket.

Steve suddenly had a feeling the man wasn't sure himself what that touch was about as he sounded a bit uncertain himself. Steve says nothing about it, just listens to him leave, then curls up to the corner of the couch. The cats eventually join him, cuddling against his side.

 

 

When Steve woke up from his nap - he'd done a lot of those lately - his entire body felt unpleasantly hot. It was a bad sign; it felt like his fever had gone up as despite feeling hot, his body shivered as if he felt cold. Slowly, the man manages to tug himself up, and shakily walk to the kitchen counter. He stumbles around, until his hands hit on a glass left on the counter. He pours some cold water on it and drinks, as his throat felt parched as well. The cats were walking on his feet, probably curious as on what he was up to.

The TV was on, having a weather podcast right now; apparently there was heavy rain in New York, which did not surprise Steve as he heard it from outside.

The man braced himself against the sink, trying to stop his body from shivering. Plus, he felt like throwing up so having the sink ready beneath him was probably a good idea. However, soon his unease made him unable to stand, and Steve collapses to the floor, startling the cats in the process. He just lays there, on his back, shivers running down his spine as he altered between hot and cold.

There was a sound of door opening.

A brief moment of rustling as James put his stuff aside. Then, a pause, and next thing Steve heard was James rushing behind him, tugging his head from the floor and into his lap, calling out his name almost frantic. There was no cold crack he was hiding behind, no masks worn right now or any sort of bluntness; just pure, honest fear and concern. "Steve! Hey, don't you pass out on me dammit!"

That....voice. Steve felt his brain rattle around.

That voice was familiar. "Come on! What's wrong, what happened? Talk to me!"

A hand brushed his forehead, probably noting how hot it was as after a moment, the hand switched into the outside-air chilled metal one. It was just held gently against his forehead, but it helped out somehow, and Steve's mind cleared a bit. His voice was definitely familiar right now, but Steve was not sure if he could trust what he was hearing; his mind was probably twisting things in his feverish state. "Woke up...feeling pretty woozy."

Steve manages to laugh weakly, and the man holding him sighs relieved; his human hand that had previously rested against Steve's forehead was now laid against Steve's chest, holding him almost....protectively, if you could call it that.

"Hold on, I bring you somewhere comfier."

James' tone was finally matching his behavior; it was about as gentle as the way he picked Steve up from the floor, allowing the man to rest his head against his human shoulder and gently carried him to the bedroom. He'd probably felt couch was too uncomfortable. Steve felt his face heat up as the man held him close like that, and was glad the color could probably be shrugged off to the fever this time. James places him gently to the bed, and then holds his human hand against Steve's forehead again.

 

This felt almost like...

....Like how Bucky used to watch after him back when he got sick.

 

James was acting a lot like Bucky in fact, except he wasn't as prone to yelling at Steve about not dying on him. James was much more silent, but his concern could be sensed as it lingered in the air like this heavy veil. "Your fever's gone up. Can't really give any medication as I don't know if it'll help or worsen it..." It felt like James was musing more to himself than Steve. He then tugs the blanket over Steve, making sure he was snuggly covered.

"How about....you?"

"I can sleep on the couch; it’s not the most uncomfortable thing I've slept on."

Somehow Steve believed that, but still.

The man huffs, probably noting his expression. "Really, Rogers. Don't worry about me; I'm not the one who got faceful of poisonous acid." His tone was light, but James was still clearly concerned, and reluctant to really leave the room.

He probably worried that Steve would cough up blood or something the second he left. Which was actually a possibility, hell if either of them knew.

"If the idea bothers you so much though, I got an extra mattress I can sleep on." Steve remains quiet for a moment; James seemed to be waiting for his response on that. As Steve heard the man shift a bit uneasily, the blond man sighs and smiles. "Okay. Since I doubt you'd let me take the floor right now."

"Hell naw."

Steve felt his mind pause a little at that response; it was...familiar. The tone was softer than what he recalled, but.... Steve releases a slow sigh; his brain really wanted to mess with him right now, apparently.

He could hear as James rustled around a bit, probably putting up the mattress he mentioned. After a few more moments, Steve heard him slump down. The door creaked, and soft steps of feline paws headed their way; Steve felt as one of the cats jumped to the bed. The cat then curled up next to him, and as Steve brushed its fur, he could tell it was the male one. Then again, he'd somehow guessed it.

There was a snort from beside the bed. "Punky's adopted you, it seems."

"Glad to know at least one of them likes me."

"Two reckless assholes; you two were made for each other."

"Then I suppose you and Nat are an item as well; the cat's as suspicious as you."

There is a momentary pause, until Steve actually hears James chuckle a bit An actual laugh, it was....surprising.

"True. Nat likes my company more, but...Punky's the one who needs me more, cause he's a little shit who gets in trouble all the time." There seemed to be a hidden meaning behind those words, but Steve could not tell what it was. "Get some sleep, will you?" James sighs after a moment.

"Yeah....sorry if I spooked you." Steve apologizes, sincerely like before.

The brunet just remains silent, giving him no answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit more of the domestic life inside Bucky's hide-hole with blind Steve.


	4. Silent Panic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky learns a bit more about what was thrown at Steve, and Steve ends up learning more things about his caretaker.   
> Things he did not expect.  
> Also, Bucky's head is a mess.

The first thing James had done the next day, was inform Fury about what happened.

A moment later he'd gotten a message to his pager, telling him to go to a certain place.

As expected, the person he ended up meeting in the park's quieter corner was Natasha.

She greeted him with a smile, and gave him a hug that felt a bit more genuine than it was probably supposed to be. He did not mind that much, for he'd always cared for this particular redhead, ever since they met.

"Fury told me what happened; I brought you some of Banner's findings. You can probably use these to see what is the best course of action regarding to his symptoms." James takes the small notebook a little surprised; with the tech in Avengers tower - or Stark tower, whatever it was - it was strange to see notes written on plain old paper.

"Bruce prefers that; its easier to use. I made sure that he wrote it as clearly as he could, so that even a soldier like you could understand." There was a teasing tone in her voice, and James rolled his eyes at the woman.

"Thanks for that, I can't help my dumb soldier brain."

The red haired woman lets out a small laugh, then gazes at him with a slight frown.

"Are you still hiding?"

James sighs, rubbing his eyes as he pockets the small notebook.

"I...haven't been able to say anything, really."

"So that is why you asked me to call him?" Natasha was sharp as always.

"Maybe."

The woman sighs and crosses her arms, shaking her head. "James....you have to be the one to tell him." She says with a gentle tone, not looking at him directly. He knew the lady was right, but he just...

"I know it's hard." She adds with a pointed look on her pretty green eyes.

James sighs and brushes trough his hair. "I...try. Someday. Right now I just...I want to make sure he's okay." He did not really know what else to say. It was kind of funny: years ago, he'd been the teacher to a terrified young girl who hid her fear the best she could, until she broke down on one faithful day, in front of him. Against her expectations, he'd been kind to her, which later on had resulted to them standing right here, right now, mostly free.

Now their roles were a bit reversed; he was the scared student, who was finding it hard to do what he was supposed to, and she was trying to coax him to do it.

A hand lands on his shoulder, and he looks at Natasha quiet.

"You’ll be fine. Out of all the people in this world, you’re the one I’d trust with Steve’s life the most.”

Bucky was not sure if he really was as reliable as she seemed to think; he wanted to believe so, but the same time, James wasn't that smug and think so highly of himself.

"Go on now; I'm certain your kittens - including the big one - are a little worried already." She winks at him with a playful smirk, and then hugs him one last time, before leaving. James watches after her for a long time.

When he got back home, Steve was slowly eating trough the bowl of fruit he'd left for him to the nightstand.

Steve had been still asleep when he left and looked sickly, so it was nice to see he at least could eat again; it was a good sign.

"Oh, welcome back; did they have anything?"

"Bunch of cryptic notes in the language of mathematics and science I don't understand anything about."

Steve lifts eyebrow at that; he was able to express his emotions better now, as his face did not itch as bad as before.

"Basically, Romanoff gave me some notes from your doctor friend regarding to your condition." James slumps down to the feet end of the bed and takes out the book, looking through it. There were some lines that had been crossed over by ink, as Banner had clearly started to talk in too much of a 'sciencey' way, but most of it was understandable. There was even an explanation to why Steve was probably having the symptoms he did.

"So...what's in them? Steve asks after a moment of silence, still holding the half eaten apple in his hand. He'd apparently deduced James was looking through the notes due to his silence.

"According to your doctor friend, the reason you have these flu-like symptoms is because your immune system has reduced down to the level of an average person, and they just feel worse than they are because you aren't used to being sick."

"...so it's a result of the poison-acid?"

"Yeah, apparently; something about the chemical compounds weakens the effect of your serum, thus making your immune system weaker. Since you haven’t been sick in a long time, catching flu or something like that this quickly was apparently to be expected."

Steve remains quiet, clearly processing what he’d just been told.

“…..Also, that gas they used in the tower was made from the same stuff; they really want you dead.”

“Oh…” Yeah, that made sense for Steve. 

Then he frowns, clearly concerned about something.

“If it’s weakening my serum, will it mean I might…” James sighs, knowing what Steve was asking.

“I don’t know. According to your doc-friend, the exact range of effect for this stuff is still unknown.” That clearly wasn’t the answer Steve wanted, but he had to stick with it for now.

“Based on what I read though, your flu should probably be treated like with every average person for now.” James concludes after closing the book and slipping it to the nightstand drawer. He didn’t really have any medication in his house – aside from medicine for his cats - given he did not get sick either, and the man wasn’t sure if he should introduce more drugs into Steve’s system right now… Banner’s notes said nothing against it, but he did not want to worsen Steve’s state accidentally.

"Hey....I know you don't like me apologizing, but I'm sorry for scaring you last evening." James lifts his gaze to look at Steve for a moment. He just shrugs, then realizes Steve cannot see it and quickly states its okay out loud.

"Still....didn't mean to do that."

"Eat your fruit already; the cats are studying it real hard."

"I doubt cats eat fruit."

"No they don't, but they'd love to play with that."

Steve huffs out a small laugh, not being able to see the way it made James' expression shift into a gentle, sad smile, as his heart ached a bit. He watches Steve eventually go through rest of the fruit left on the bowl – his condition clearly lessened his usually ravenous appetite given how unusually slow his pace was, but Steve probably knew he had to make sure he ate as he needed the nutrition - and rolls his eyes at Punky who climbs up to the nightstand and peeks into the bowl curious.

"You feeling better?" He asks from Steve while still looking at the light brown kitten.

"Yeah, mostly. The feverish vibe is not as bad anymore, but..." the blond pauses, as if unsure whenever he should voice out whatever was in his mind. James sighs a bit annoyed.

"Look, if something feels wrong, you gotta tell me; I won't laugh at you."

Steve's face flushes a little, making the man roll his eyes again. The punk was so easy to turn red like a tomato, that he honestly enjoyed doing it. He really liked to see the color appear on Steve's face; not only because it reminded him that Steve was alive, that he was alive, but also because...because he was probably the only one at the moment who could make Steve drop his guard this much, that he allowed himself to get embarrassed.

Based on what he'd heard and seen about the blond man around others, he was very serious and quiet, a bit unlike the skinny spitfire kid he remembered from their past.

That thought made James halt a little, and suddenly he felt uneasy; sure, if he was Bucky Barnes, it would have made all the more sense for him to be able to do this, but he was supposed to be a stranger to Steve, unless....

"My body feels kind of achy...almost if my muscles were stuck or something. It's...kind of uncomfortable."

James blinks, and then examines Steve more closely. "To be honest....you do seem kinda tense. You have been the whole time since you came....well, since I dragged you here."

"Really?"

"Yeah; you're probably stressing out too much, keeping your body stiff subconsciously."

"Oh..." It probably made sense to Steve, given his situation.

"You gotta try and relax a little."

"I...don't know how."

Steve admits after a moment of silence, gaining a snort from James.

"Really? I'm a guy with diagnosed PTSD and even I can do it."

This bit of info seemed to surprise Steve, and he probably added it to the list of things he knew about him. James was kind of curious to know what exactly was on that list, but on the other hand he didn't want to ask, as he feared if Steve really put all the info he'd gotten from James so far together, he could probably recognize him. "How do you do it then?" Steve asks after a moment of silence.

"Yoga. Kittens, lots of herbal tea, and occasional punch in the bad guy's face."

Steve lets out a small laugh, and again, it was almost uncanny how familiar this felt; it was almost like they were back in time seventy years ago, and Steve was skinny again and laughing at some half-assed joke he made. James shook his head, not wanting to get sentimental right now. "I'm not sure if that would help me..." Steve mutters out after a moment with a bit of a melancholic tone. James suddenly realized Steve had probably thought along the same lines as he, and gotten sentimental instead of him. He sighs irritated. "Alright, fine. Move your sorry ass here."

Steve looks up - or rather, tilts his head up - towards him in confusion. Instead of waiting for a reply, James yanks him off from the pillow-end and beside him, gaining a startled yelp and a blush from Steve.

"Sit right there, will you?" His tone was ordering, almost slipping to the one he'd used long time ago when teaching Natasha; kind of stern and demanding, but also gentle in a sense. Steve just remains still beside him, listening keenly at whatever he was up to. His face was still a bit red too. Barnes moves so that he now sits behind the confused man, and places his hands on Steve's shoulders. He flinches in surprise upon feeling that, gaining a smirk from James. "Told you; Fury would not have let you stay here if I was going to stab you in the back."

"N-no...I just..."

Steve stutters out gloriously flustered, but remains still as James massages his stiff shoulders.

It seemed to work, as the blond began to relax under his touch, slowly but surely. James had to pay extra attention when it came to his artificial arm, but luckily it did not demand too much from him. It seemed that even his weaponized limb was willing to be gentle with Steve. After a moment in silence, the blond man manages to find his voice again.

"Where you...learn this, I mean..."

"Natasha taught me; she learned how to kill from me, and in turn, showed me how to be...gentle again."

James' voice cracks a bit as he says that. It was not the entire truth really, as he'd already known how; it was just the best way to explain this off without having to go too much into details. "You and her....you seem pretty close, although Nat never mentioned you."

"She wasn't allowed to. Anybody who knew about me was to keep silent."

Steve remains quiet for a moment, but James could tell he still wanted to ask something. James puts two and two together pretty quickly

"No."

"What?"

"In case you were wondering if she's my dame, no. She's a fine gal and all, but..."

"Not your type?"

Steve sounded actually surprised. Then again, this was Natasha Romanoff; it was hard to imagine any straight man who did not find her their type.

"No, I mean....I kind of..."

"Had a lady already?"

James pauses, just staring at the back of Steve's head for a moment. How the fuck was he supposed to answer to that? ".....Kind of. Doesn't know I'm alive though." Steve lets out a small hum.

"Perhaps you should go see her." He offers gently, and James honestly wanted to laugh and shake him the same time. Ain't that ironic? Steve Rogers telling him to go and see his 'dame,' not realizing _he was the one_ James was talking about. He could not say this out loud however; his mind and its fears still would not let him to tell Steve the truth. "I doubt they'd want to see me the way I am right now."

"I guess the arm is scary, but really..."

James slaps his shoulder a bit, making Steve flinch, before he continues to open the knots his muscles had twisted into.

He now noted uselessly the slight differences when it came to their muscle-mass; Steve was softer, warmer, whereas his muscles were harder, and his skin always felt cold. Somehow it was highly fitting in his eyes.

"That's not what I meant."

Steve mutters out an apology - again - and just remains quiet for a long while, letting James massage him. It was probably a bit weird situation for Steve, but he did not seem too uncomfortable about having a guy touch him like this. At least, he made no signs of discomfort yet. Knowing Steve, he could have been too kind to say or show anything, though, but Barnes wanted to believe it was because Steve truly did not mind it.

That line of thinking made him pause again.

Perhaps....that was one of the reasons he was hesitant to tell Steve the truth. He knew how he felt about Steve, but....he wasn't sure if it was mutual. If anything, all he knew about Captain America and Steve Rogers stated otherwise. Steve had cared for him deeply, yes, but not like that. From the times they both come from, something like that...it was not possible. James himself had been pretty damn horrified about the prospect when he'd first realized it himself, and he'd had Natasha calm him down and explain that nowadays it wasn't such a big deal.

He felt Steve shift and turn his head towards him as if wondering why he'd stopped, so Barnes continues wordlessly, noting that Steve had relaxed quite a bit now. He no longer felt tense and there was an involuntary smile creeping on his lips.

"Hey...." The blond man breaks the silence suddenly, making James halt again. "....I was wondering." Steve's tone was unsure, as if what he was going to ask felt a little inappropriate to him, or too personal.

"You uh...said 'they' instead of 'her."

James tenses a bit; of course Steve would notice. "It's.... not a dame, is it? The person you mentioned." James lets his hands slip away from Steve slowly, and releases a deep sigh, rubbing his eyes.

"It's fine and all; I'm not one to judge on that. I was just wondering." Steve quickly hurries to explain himself further; probably worried that James had gotten the wrong idea or something.

"....No. They're not."

"Okay."

Steve's tone was very nervous; he probably felt bad about asking that, as it was again a very personal topic.

"I guess...it uh...explains some things."

"Like what?" James snaps at him involuntarily, suddenly feeling as uneasy as Steve probably was.

"...You don't seem uncomfortable about being this close to me. Or, you know, carrying me around." His face was so red right now, it would have been glorious had his words not made James panic silently.

"That has....nothing to do with it. I just generally don't show my discomfort much. Had to hide it for so many years it’s become a habit." The brunet quickly explains it away, suddenly wanting to move the fuck away from Steve, perhaps even sprint out of the room, the apartment, the goddamn city even.

"Oh....that makes sense." Steve muses more to himself than James. His tone sounded a bit...disappointed?

Yeah, he definitely wanted to run right now; his brain was making shit up.

Almost if sensing his mood, Steve shifts away to sit back to the head end of the bed, rubbing his shoulder a bit uneasy.

"Thanks, by the way. That helped a lot."

James gazes after him for a moment, and then releases a slow sigh. “I go make you some tea that should help.” Steve just nods and listens as James gets up and heads for the kitchen. The brunet’s mind was in a bit of a loop; he felt like he’d given out too much for Steve now with his behavior. If he kept this shit up, the blonde would soon put two-and-two together. Steve was stubborn, but not stupid. The thoughts honestly frightened him pretty bad, and James hated that it did; in what kind of world he’d be afraid of his own….of Steve? That was just bullshit.

He has to put the cup back down to the table and hold onto it for a bit, as he felt a familiar tug of anxiety hit him.

These moments weren’t as bad as they used to, but he still hated the way his body wanted to curl up to the damn floor and just sob like a little kid. Eventually he composes himself enough to go and deliver the hot drink to Steve. The blond man clearly noted the way his flesh hand was shaking lightly, but said nothing to it, just accepting the warm drink and curling back under the sheets with it.

 

 

Steve’s condition remained stable for the next few days, and nothing special happened either.

No Hydra or Avengers or even a random burglar trying to raid his home, which was a good thing. The bad thing was that he was now extremely cautious and shaky around Steve. The blond never said anything but could clearly sense it.

Eventually, the brunet decided that he couldn’t keep on hovering like this; feeling like one wrong step would make him break down. He’d sent Sam a message asking if he could come around New York that week. For his surprise, the man had informed him he’d been in New York already visiting family. Bucky was glad to hear that, as he needed somebody to talk to.

Somebody OTHER than Steve.

Leaving Steve by himself for a short period was always a risk, but Bucky was pretty confident that his house was safe. However…Steve was stable now, but things could take the turn for the worse while he was away, just like what had happened earlier. That was a risk he didn’t like taking, but had no choice. If he kept pacing around his house like a caged animal any longer, Steve would ask questions, and he had no clue what he’d do then.

"I gotta go; my shrink wanted to talk to me today."

"Oh, when you'll be back?"

James glances at the clock; it was nine thirty in the morning. “Probably around midday or so…”

James could tell Steve was probably thinking along the same lines he was; was it really safe after the fever spike earlier, to leave him alone like that. Then again, it was not like James just being there would be able to prevent it. "I leave something to the night desk for you to eat while I'm away. You might want to watch that the damn cats won't snatch it before you."

He pauses, and then smirks a bit. "Not that you can literally watch."

Steve lets out an annoyed groan, which reminds Barnes of their early days in Brooklyn.

Some things never changed.

 

 

James drops to the couch once he enters Sam's office, at the corner of the seat, as far from the window as possible.

At least it wasn’t the literal corner of the room, which was progress in Sam’s eyes.

After a while, Wilson brings him a soda from the vending machine from the corridor, and sits down at the other end, leaving enough space between them. He also notes the bandage on James' hand. "What happened?" "Broke a lamp." Sam lifts eyebrow, but gains no further response on that issue, so he just turns his attention away for a moment, opening his own soda. "So....why are you here? Is this about what we talked last time?" James remains quiet, just gulping down his drink a bit. He was staring into thin air aimlessly, so Sam just waited; he'd say something once he could form the proper words for it. Sometimes it took a while, other times he was never able to spill it out. It was all part of the process, really.

"Steve's been...sick."

"That's normal to most people."

"Not to him. I mean..."

the man sighs and turns to look at Sam. "He seriously scared the shit out of me. I came home as I'd gone out to get more food to the cats - cause the bastards eat through all of it way too fast - and he was...on the floor. Fucking gave me a heart attack."

"What was it?"

"His fever spiked."

Sam frowns a bit; he could hear the worry and concern in James' voice. "Shouldn't you mention that to your boss?"

"I did...I mean, I already got some more info and guidance on what to do from that doc friend of Steve's, but...."

"You're still uneasy."

The brunet leans forward with a sigh, rubbing his eyes and dropping his gaze to the floor. "You're probably making it bigger than it is." Sam offers gently, knowing how James was prone to paranoia and exaggerating tiny problems into unmanageable sizes. The fact he’d suddenly sent Sam that message out of blue was always a sign that the man was sizing-up a tiny problem in his head and needed somebody to mentally slap him in the face and say “no, don’t do that.”

"I know! I know I'm fucking overreacting Wilson!"

The man spats at him, but doesn't lift his gaze from the floor. He was now shaking a bit.

"Come on man; you know I'm willing to listen. That's my job." S

am pats his shoulder with an encouraging tone, though he was frowning with concern. It had been a while since he'd seen James this shaken. Sam doubted this was just about Steve’s current condition. Sure, having Steve Rogers sick was unusual, but his intuition was good enough to tell the man that wasn’t all of it. Bucky remained quiet for a long time, and dropped his head lower, so that his hair masked his face.

 

This, it reminded Sam so much of the first days the man had properly opened up to him.

He'd been quiet, uneasy and at the verge of tears. He'd avoided looking him in the eyes.

Finally, Bucky leans back and rests his head against the backrest of the couch so that he was facing the ceiling.

He kept his eyes closed though. "I just...for all these years, after he was fished out of ice, I thought....I thought Steve would be fine, he did not need me. I didn't have to show my fucking face to him, ever again."

"You might wanna stop thinking so lowly of yourself, mate." Sam points out, though he understood why Bucky thought the way he did. He was really struggling with seeing the value of his own life, even after ten years of being free. Given what he had gone through, it was no wonder.

"And then....suddenly, it feels I can't fully trust his new friends to protect him. But...I can't trust myself either. I don't know what I should do..." His tone was really lost. Sam remained quiet, as he wasn't sure what to say to that to make it better. James brings his metal hand up to rub his eyes frustrated. He really...he was able to hide his uncertainty from Steve for now, but the man just knew he'd break down sooner or later, and then...he did not even know what to do then.

"...You know. I still think you should be honest."

"For fuck's sake Sam! I can't! I can't tell him!"

James sits up abruptly, glaring at his companion as he hisses out those words. Sam holds his hands up in a defensive manner, not liking the way James was being 'explosive' right now. "I just think you hiding your identity is adding extra stress on your plate; you're having a lot of signs of going back to how you were when we first met." "I can't; Steve's gonna ask questions. I don't....I can't explain it. I can't..."

Suddenly, James realizes his vision was turning a bit blurry, and the can of soda slips from his hand, colliding with the floor in almost slow motion, spilling the foamy, sizzling liquid everywhere. He leans forward, clutching his stomach as his breathing fastened dangerously.

There was....there was white noise in his head, and his heart was racing like he was running away from something.

His ears were ringing loudly, like the siren of a firetruck, or...or a scream of a dying, frightened person. He knew what this was, it had happened earlier. "Jesus!" Sam moves to rub his back in shock, clearly having not expected this to happen again, after such a long time. James was having a panic-attack.

"Okay, calm down will ya? Take some deep breaths, and just calm down." Sam instructs him, his face in a deep frown.

The brunet squeezes his eyes shut and takes a few, deep breaths. "Deep breaths, dude, deep breaths." Sam keeps instructing him with a reassuring tone, and eventually James does calm down. Abruptly, he realizes his eyes were blurry and his face a bit wet; he'd actually shed a tear or two.

The man wipes his face quickly, and releases another shaky breath as he sits up right properly.

For a moment, neither of them spoke, and Sam kept squeezing his shoulder to make sure the man remained grounded in reality. James was honestly glad he had Wilson as a friend, not just as a shrink, like he was technically assigned to be; sure, they bickered every now and then, and Sam made it very clear he did not approve of James sometimes popping up at random near his house, or his office without actual assigned meeting, but he never turned James down when he really needed to talk about something.

"....your hand. You had one before." It wasn't a question, so James just nods.

"What triggered it?"

"...I...Steve asked about...one of his friends..."

"....The one whose parents you..." James clutches his head a bit and curls up to the couch, so Sam doesn't finish his sentence, not wanting to trigger another seizure. "Tony's still hostile towards me about it. I mean...he gets it, he said he does, but he can't help it."

"...Does it bother you?"

"No...I mean, I get why he does it. I don't blame him. I just...don't want to remember it."

James' tone was very quiet, and he looked like a terrified child who was hiding from his parents, because they yelled at him. Or hit him, that was more likely analogy; he looked like a child hiding from his abusive parents, which was half-true in a sense.

".....You know man. I don't know if having you guard Cap is such a good idea. He seems to trigger you pretty bad for some reason."

James lets out a huff and finally lifts his gaze, staring ahead. He had that look again; the 'thousand-year stare' as it was called. "I know. But I'm not the type to just...give up. If I was, I'd been dead for years now." Sam...Could not deny that. The one thing he'd learned about James Barnes during these five years - six if you counted the one year he'd just known him as an elusive, but occasionally friendly neighbor - that he was the kind of person, who needed just one reason to keep going.

"Yeah; it's a good thing you're stubborn as all hell." James doesn't respond, just stares ahead.

"If it gets too much....you have to tell your boss to cut you off from this. You can't really help Steve out if you start having panic-attacks over it." Sam knew James wasn't keen on this prospect, but honestly...it could end up being his only choice.

For a moment, he stays quiet, and then the blue eyes land on Sam.

"I'm not gonna walk away from him, Sam. I am not doing it again."

"Then be honest with him; tiptoeing around like this is just going to make things worse for you."

The brunet says nothing to that.

 

 

He is still in the parking lot he’d left his bike in, when James gets a message from Fury.

**_WHERE THE HELL WERE YOU._ **

It reads on his pager, loud and clear. James grumbles as he sends a reply to the eye-patch pirate.

**_AT WILSON. WHAT ABOUT IT?_ **

It did not take long for an answer to arrive.

**_FOR FUCK'S SAKE SOLDIER. USE A PHONE, YOU WERE NOT AUTHORIZED TO GO_ **

James huffs, and brushes through his hair. Fury was such a pain in the ass.

**_PHONES CAN BE TRACED._ **

**_SO CAN YOU WITH THAT BIG CHUNK O' METAL ON YOUR SIDE. GO. BACK. HOME. NOW_**.

The man lets out a slew of curses in Russian as he puts the pager away, not even bothering to check the rest of angry beeping messages he was getting. What the hell did Fury expect from him? He’d HAVE to leave his house at times, if just to get food. Sure, the shop was near his house while Wilson’s office was in a whole other part of the city, but still…

Fury was taking his super-soldier genetics too literally.

Even he needed to get food sometimes.

 

Well, to be honest it was obvious that Fury was pissy because Bucky had not informed him beforehand about this visit to Sam. The man needed to know where he was at all times, though Bucky wasn’t sure if it was for his own safety, or others.

 

Suddenly, James felt a prickle in his spine, and the blue eyes scanned the surroundings warily. He was currently at a less-populated part of the road with a gas-station nearby. It felt like somebody was watching him, and James did not like it one bit. There weren't much people on the road or the gas-station, but he still felt like he was being observed by somebody. Perhaps the earlier seizure had triggered his paranoia again?

Then, he saw it. James lets out a light groan as he notes the group of teenager thugs heading his way with their small, honestly ridiculously looking custom bikes; like bunch of small dogs on steroids, to the point they looked disfigured, that's how their vehicles looked like in James' eyes. Looking at the boys themselves, they seemed like the exact type who acted before they thought. Before long, the group of three surrounds him. James feels his skin tingle unpleasantly, but not out of fear.

At least not for himself; he could easily take out these brats with his pinky finger if he had to.

The prospect that he could, was the one that worried him.

"Hey dude, that's one cool looking bike you got." The leader, a guy with spiky hair states. James doesn't respond, just proceeds to check on his pager, ignoring them.

**_YOU CANNOT LEAVE YOUR POST FOR EXTRA BUSINESS WITHOUT PERMISSION DAMMIT, DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME SOLDIER??_ **

"Woah, somebody still uses those ages old things? How old are you, hundred?" A fellow punk - nah, brat, punk was too good of a word wasted on these guys - asks with a mocking tone. He had a bit of red mixed in with his spiky hairdo. In fact, they all looked like a porcupine had settled in on top of their heads. James proceeds to slip the pager away and turns to look at them with a dull look.

He really wasn't in the mood to try and deal with a bunch of thugs, especially those of their age who were just a bunch of kids who did not know any better.

"What? Can't even say hello, old man? Think you're better than us just because you're older?"

What the fuck was up with youngsters these days, purposefully looking for a fight?

Then again...it wasn't much different from their days.

Bloody youngsters and their need to prove something, and yes, James was taking that jab towards himself as well, knowing he had done this himself in the past. At least, he was fairly sure he had, for his memory served poorly when it came to the memories about the forties and world war.

.....Wow he really DID sound old.

"It's not my style to talk to a fucking kid with such a ridiculous hairdo." That clearly stung, as the leader spiky-hair guy who'd spoken first frowns annoyed. "Yeah? What's up with that ragged mop YOU wear? Are you emo or something?"

James did not even know what the hell that term meant. "At least I don't look like a fuckin' porcupine." He comments, grasping his helmet to put it back on. He really did not want to deal with these brats right now. "At least I don't look like a fucking hobo."

James pauses, and tilts his head slightly towards the leering, smirking group, who seemed oh, so proud of themselves for supposedly damaging his ego.

He really should not cause a mess, or care what these kids said, but...James suddenly felt the need to take his frustration out of something, at least a little bit.

"Aww, we made the old man mad; are you gonna whip out your cane to smack us?"

Slowly, James glances around to see if there were any cameras. The parking lot was empty around this section, and this corner was somewhat shadowed so he probably could not be seen in the recordings. That was actually why he usually parked here anyway; not too much people around.

He puts the helmet down, and paces out from behind his bike, towards the loud-mouth.

His gaze apparently unnerved the group a bit as they all backed away slightly, clearly confused on what he was up to. James places his metal hand on top of the forward lamp of the leader-spiky hair brat's bike. "You got a nice ride too, kid."

He says with a calm tone, and then glances at the kid with an eerie smirk. "Wouldn't it be a shame if something....happened to it?"

He says, and then crushes the lamp with just squeezing it with his inhumanely strong grip.

As predicted, the kids' face pales and he backs away in his seat, looking up at James with widened eyes. His friends were also mumbling something under their breaths, equally shocked, and probably contemplating if they should flee and leave their friend to deal with is. Some friends they were for sure. "What's the matter? I thought you wanted me to come and say hi."

He keeps his tone casual and mockingly pleasant, knowing it spooked the kids out badly.

He then suddenly reaches for the spiky-hair sitting on his bike all tense, which lets out a hilarious scared whimper, squeezing his eyes shut. All James does however, is to place the hand on top of his head. "Listen up kid; you might want to really consider, before you take action in life." The boy now looks up at him with widened eyes. "You never know what kind of person you end up pissing off; be glad I'm nicer than I look. Next time you might not be this lucky with whoever you try to annoy."

His tone was...almost parental so to say, though it still had a hint of previous stealth in it.

It was fun to scare these assholes, but honestly, James could tell they were teenagers - kids - and he was not the type to harm children if he had a say on it. As a teen, you tended to do stupid things, hell, he did stupid things long way into adulthood, James was fairly sure about that. He lets go of the boy, and walks back to his bike, tugging the helmet on.

"Remember what I said, kid."

James comments as he starts his bike, gaining a shaky nod from the spooked spiky-hair, who was still glancing at his metal arm with widened eyes. Without any further trouble, James drives off, knowing he probably left quite an impression. There was a chance it would bite him in the ass someday, that he’d been recorded despite his caution, but the man hoped the kid would at least learn a bit before he truly angered somebody nastier than him.

 

 

When he got home, the cats ran to the door to greet him.

As he pet Nat's head, Barnes could hear the shower running; Steve had apparently managed to tug himself out of bed and made his way to the shower. The food he'd left for Steve - more fruit, some energy bars and microwave-ready noodle-soup - was untouched. It made him frown, as Steve losing his appetite again was a bad sign. 

 

Out of them two, he should be the one struggling with remembering to eat, not Steve. This just didn't feel right.

With a sigh, he drops off his jacket and shoes, and grabs one of the energy-bars, settling to the couch.

It was white-chocolate and coconut flavor, or so the label says; for James, all of these things just tasted sweet. He eats it absent-mindedly, not really feeling hungry, but he knew he should eat something; Sam kept telling him he ate like a chipmunk, when he should be eating a LOT more than average person, based on the amount of energy his job required quite often.

It was just....hard for him to remember it, as his body did not get hungry as easily as an average person.

Ten years, and he still had not learned to fully fix his eating habits. It was kind of sad.

After a while, he could hear the water stop running, indicating that Steve was done. Then, he heard a loud thud and a crashing sound, and instantly sprung to his feet, shoving the cats off his lap. They hissed at him, but the man did not care as he reached for the door. "Steve?" He asks, hesitant to enter. He hears some rustling, then a disoriented voice.

"I slipped."

Without further hesitation, he pushes the door open. Steve was sprawled to the floor, holding his head as he'd clearly hit it to the floor hard. He had a towel around his waist but it wasn't properly in place due to his position, so when Steve heard the door open, he covered himself reflexively. "Should have watched my step." He mutters sheepishly, his cheeks flushing. "How the hell would you do that when your eyes are busted?" James notes after a moment of just taking in the sight in front of him. Steve tilts his head downwards, clearly embarrassed.

He did that a lot nowadays for some reason. James sighs, and then helps him up, noting the man was still dizzy due to the impact.

At least he hadn't cracked his skull open, that was good. However, his body felt unusually warm, which was less good. He was also clearly weakened again, barely being able to walk forward, leaning heavily against the brunet for support. 

James helped him to the bedroom, noting that Steve was really tense, and his face was still fuming red. James wasn't sure if it was because of him slipping and stumbling around like some old man, or the state of his clothing - the lack of it to be more precise. Maybe he was uneasy because of what he'd told Steve about himself and....well, shit.

This was pretty damn awkward if Steve thought of it like _that_.

It's not like he was wrong, really, when it came to James, but Steve did not know about the reason why exactly he.... Ugh, he really should not be thinking about this so much; chances were they both would turn tense and awkward towards one another soon, and then living here would get pretty damn difficult.

"I can, uh...h-handle the rest, thanks." Steve mutters as James helps him to sit down to the bed and brings him a change of clothes, putting them on the man's lap. Without a word, James leaves the room, giving Steve some privacy.

He leans against the bedroom door, releasing a slow sigh.

It wasn't really the first time he'd seen Steve like that, but...since he was re-discovering a lot about himself, the reaction he had to that was harder to mask than it had been in the past. James rubs his eyes and takes few more deep breaths; his body was tense, but in a new way.

The man steps away from the door and walks back to the couch, sitting down and curling up a bit, resting his head against the backrest, like he'd done at Sam's house. He just stares at the ceiling, and waits.

Eventually, Steve manages to haul himself out of the room, and make his way to the couch slowly, sitting beside James with a blanket around his shoulders.

He left more space between them than usual though, and the brunet could see his face was still red. For a moment they just sit there in awkward silence. Then, a rumbling sound interrupts it, and Steve coughs.

Somehow, his face managed to turn up the redness at least two notches.

James sighs and gets up, looking through the stuff he had, and then chooses to warm up the noodle-cup. After he's done heating it and putting in the spices, the man stirs it, and then he brings the food to Steve, alongside a fork to eat the noodles with.

"Thanks." The man mutters out. His embarrassment had not settled down yet, as his face was still fuming, and James could not stop noticing how pointedly he was trying to avoid any sort of physical contact right now. While Steve eats - he was struggling a bit with the slippery noodles - James watches him quietly. He examines every inch of Steve's face, noting that the redness around the bandage had settled.

The blush was still evident, but he'd apparently managed to swallow it down somewhat alongside the food now.

His eyes kept drifting at Steve's mouth as he ate; due to the hot water the noodles had been heated in, his lips were shiny. He also licked them at times, to get the spices off from them. James felt something tug at him somewhere in his gut; he should not be looking, not really, but he did.

It'd been a long time since he'd seen this reckless, lovable asshole, and he'd been too much in panic and worry and all that other shit to really just take his time and just look at Steve.

He still looked pretty much like how he remembered; big, warm, a little clumsy.

There was a tiny smile on his lips as if he was thinking of something, a nice memory perhaps. James suddenly really wished Steve did not have that damn bandage on. He wanted to see Steve's eyes; the big, innocent baby blues that could turn cloudy like the skies outside currently, when he was on a bad mood. The fact those Hydra bastards had tried to ruin it, ruin the way Steve's eyes lit up when he was excited or determined about something, it made his blood boil. Without thinking, he'd reached out with his human hand, and brushed Steve's cheek right beneath the bandage covering his eyes.

The fork stops mid-air as Steve feels it, and James quickly snaps out of it, moving back, and even clutching his hands to his chest as if to prevent himself from doing that again.

"Was there something on my face?" Steve asks after a moment of silence. James shakes his head, and then remembers Steve cannot see that. "I just...the rash is settling down so I guess it's a good sign."

"Ohh...good."

There was just something really tense in the air; Steve seemed a bit...uncomfortable which made sense given he was probably feverish again, but the brunet could tell there was more to it than that. He shifted around quite a bit, as if not sure how he should lie there.

 

James prayed in his head that Steve wasn't thinking....because that would make everything really difficult for him.

"Hey..." Steve suddenly says with a gentle tone, indicating that he wanted to ask about something he wasn't sure he should.

"What?"

"The...person you mentioned. He must be...pretty old by now."

James tenses a bit, but says nothing.

"Maybe you should go see them, before they....die. I mean..." Steve rubs his head, clearly uncertain on how to finish his sentence. "Even if they...don't feel the same way about you, they'd at least be glad to see you are still alive."

James felt his heart creak and ache when he heard those words. This fucking moron had no clue, no clue that he was talking about himself, because he was too much of a coward to be honest with Steve. He was saying those words with such sincerity and compassion, that it hurt. James swallowed down the anxiety that rose in his throat and sighs.

"I don't want to give them that heartbreak; if he saw me now, he'd blame himself for what happened. I can't do that to him." His voice was a bit shaky, but he managed to keep himself mostly at bay.

"...I see. I suppose it makes sense. But...if you really love the person, you should be honest with them."

The brunet paused, and then lets out a frustrated huff. "For fucks sake...that's EXACTLY what my shrink keeps telling me! Now YOU start as well!"

Steve is taken aback by his sudden, angry outburst, and mutters out an uneasy apology, but James doesn't listen. He just gets up and marches to the bedroom, slamming the door closed, and probably startling his damn cats in the process. James didn't care, he...he had to distance himself a tiny bit right now. He did not want to break down in front of the damn punk. The man kicks aside the mattress he'd been sleeping on almost violently, and slumps to the bed, burying his face into his hands.

He wasn't even sure how he felt right now; it felt like a mixture of frustration, anger towards himself, fear, and longing.

His body did not know how to handle all this at once, so his mind was getting mixed up, driving him to another anxiety fit. He slumps to his back, still hiding his face behind his palms, trying to catch his breath again. A scream of frustration wanted to seep out of his mouth, but he held it in with his Winter Soldier iron control he usually had over his emotions.

Keyword 'usually,' as right now it did not feel like he could control it at all.

James twists to his side and curls up, clutching the metallic limb to his chest as he squeezes his eyes shut. He had to bite his lip to not voice out any of what was inside his head, namely a very loud howl. He remains still for a long moment, just riding through all of it in tense silence. He kept counting to three in his head, matching his breathing to that. Eventually, he starts to settle down, and unclenched his body a bit.

The steady sound of raindrops hitting the roof and the window was also kind of soothing to listen, so he focused his mind on that sound to further ease his mind, hopefully. As time passed, he began to turn drowsy, for his surprise. Perhaps all that frustration and anger from today had taken a toll on him, making him sleepy. It was not physical exhaustion as he had not done anything like that today; it was mental.

Sam was right, hell, Steve was right.

He should just be honest.

James wasn't that dumb not to know this. But...he could not do it. He just couldn't.

There was a barrier so great in his mind that it almost felt like his former handlers had somehow conditioned him to be unable to admit to Steve who he was. James knew it was not the case, for blockages like that in his mind felt different, but whatever it was, it was equally powerful of a mental chain on him. He curled up again, just breathing for a moment.

His mind started to drift sluggishly, and it kept going back to Steve. Part of him wanted to stop it, because thinking about it hurt, but the man felt too mentally exhausted to resist it, so eventually he slipped into dreaming involuntarily. 

 

 

_Steve was lying on his belly, beneath him._

_His shirt was somewhere on the floor, and James ran his hands down the bare back, just massaging it gently, causing small shivers run through Steve due to the cool touch of his metal fingers._

_There was a black, silken veil over Steve's eyes, so he could not see anything. He was sitting on Steve's legs, practically pinning him against bed, as if to make sure he would not run. Steve wouldn't, though; his head was resting against his folded arms, and James could see the small smile spread across his lips. He really enjoyed what the brunet was doing, running his hands up and down his skin, at times rubbing his neck and shoulders with firm, yet gentle touches._

_James places his cool metal palm against Steve's upper back, and then drags it down very slowly across his spine, making the man shiver a bit more noticeably than before._

_The brunet then leans down, just brushing his lips against the edge of Steve's jaw, tracing a line up to his ear, scraping it with his teeth. This causes the man beneath him whimper a bit, and his trembling worsens. James lets out a hum, and his lips move down alongside the line of Steve's neck, all the way down to his shoulder. The form beneath him trembles a bit each time his tongue touches the pale skin, just flickering over it almost teasingly. He then proceeds to move down Steve's back, tracing a line down his spine with his tongue and lips._

_Each time he hit a sweet spot, the blond man would let out a small whimper, clutching onto the bedsheets a bit as his entire body twitches in pleasure._

_As James reached his waistline, he could feel the man prop himself up a bit, his upper body somewhat detached from the soft mattress beneath them, while still hanging his head low between his strong arms, just enjoying every single second of what James was doing to him. The brunet traces a line back up, only this time, he also slides his metallic fingers up, and rests them against the back of Steve's neck, brushing his nose against the soft, blond hair._

_"Bucky..."_

_Steve whispers out quietly, his voice warm and a bit longing; the metal fingers slide upwards and grip the short blond locks tightly, tilting Steve's head almost forcefully to the side, so that Bucky could reach his lips. The kiss is both very slow, and thirsty; Steve's lips fall open almost instantly, and he allows Bucky's tongue to catch his and play with it, and he gasps loudly when they separate, disappointed when it ended so quickly._

_"Bucky..."_

_The longing tone in his voice made the brunet smirk, and he tugs on the veil that covered Steve's eyes a bit._

_"Aren't you a greedy one?"_

_He whispers right at Steve's ear, making him shiver again, releasing a small gasp. The brunet pushes Steve's head down against the pillow slowly, then grasps his left wrist with his metal hand, trapping it above his head. Finally, he rests his weight on Steve now, letting his tongue slide over the side of Steve's neck, before nibbling at the base of it a bit. The blond gasps as he feels that, and he manages to tilt his head a bit to give Bucky more room, his face red, pleasure written all over it._

_His free hand was grasping the bedsheets so firmly that they would probably tear._

_Slowly, James sat back up, releasing Steve's wrist. He ran his cold fingers down, across the length of the outstretched arm, to his shoulder, down his side, until it rested against Steve's hip, and then slipped it to the mattress beside Steve's shaking form. He was towering over Steve, his shadow covering the trembling form beneath him._

_Steve had slid his outstretched arm beside him, and he was gripping the pillow right next to his head as tightly as the canvas on his other hand. Steve looked so ripe, so ready for more._

_God, he wanted to ride him so badly already, but Bucky wasn't done playing around just yet._

_"Jesus, Bucky, stop taunting me. Just let me see you."_

_Steve suddenly huffs, voice thick with want. The brunet leans back down, capturing Steve's lips for his soft hold for a moment, then nibbles at his ear again, letting his breath brush right over it as he spoke._

_"I'm not done yet."_

_He purrs into Steve's ear, before sliding his hand up to mingle his fingers with Steve's_.

 

 

 

Bucky sits up abruptly, panting. The rain outside had gotten worse, and he could hear a distant rumble of thunder. This time probably a natural one and not Asgardian made. He shivers a bit, but not out of cold; he'd apparently dozed off for a moment, and his brain had cooked up a fantasy for him, and now he was aroused.

It was frustrating, and he ruffles through his hair to get rid of the alluring image in his head.

No.

He was not supposed to think of any of that.

As much as he had the right of freedom of thought now, he should have some restraints dammit!

The man gets up shakily, trying to ignore the way his lower body ached with want. He almost stumbles to the door, and pushes it open slowly. It was quiet in the living room-slash-kitchen, and as he looked closely from the crack he opened, Steve had fallen asleep. Quietly, James makes his way out of the room and stops next to the couch. Steve's head was resting against his arm, which he used as a pillow, and it was tilted to the side, while rest of his body lied on his back.

The free hand was lying on top of the blanket covering him, and what would you know, Punky was snoozing soundly on top of his chest. Steve's face was in a light frown, meaning he was probably still concerned for James. The empty noodle-cup was on the coffee table, and Nat was sniffing on it, but showed no signs of actually wanting to have a taste. James sighs, and picks up the cup, pouring out the leftover water and throwing the rest to the trash.

He then walks back to Steve, who was still motionless in his sleep.

He just gazes at the sleeping man for a moment, then places his human hand against Steve's forehead. It was warm again, but not as bad as that one time he'd found Steve from the floor.

Then, unable to stop himself, Bucky leans closer, brushing his nose against Steve's cheek. "How am I supposed to be honest to 'him', Steve? It's you I was talking about...you'd just...break your dumb, big heart if you saw me right now." He whispers very quietly, placing a barely connecting kiss to his forehead.

After a moment of just hovering there, he gets up, and walks to the bedroom again; it was late, maybe he should just follow Steve's example and get some sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this chapter required more edits as I had to change quite a few details to make the story match the detail changes I did in previous chapters. It's funny how changing a tiny detail can have a snowball effect.   
> More action should be happening in the next chapters, hopefully.


	5. Nothing but worry and confusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve's fever is going up and down, concerning Bucky. Steve also ends up breaking down emotionally, which also concerns Bucky, but for a different reason than you'd think.

The next morning was tense; James had not said anything, just brought him some food and a cup of tea, and checked his body temperature.

He'd also given Steve one of his hoodies for warmth as he'd been shivering - it fit surprisingly well - and re-applied some of the rash-easing salve on his eyes as Steve had rubbed them again.

His eyes still probably looked mauled, but at least he did not have bloody tears anymore.

Now, James was doing something in the 'cat-room,' perhaps cleaning the places or so. Steve could also hear the cats meowing at times in there, and he could almost imagine that James was playing with them, hence they sounded so happy. He was clearly avoiding Steve, and the blond wasn't sure why. Was he still angry about what Steve had said yesterday? It did not feel likely as it felt a little...illogical for him to be mad about that. Frustrated maybe, having somebody repeat the words he'd already heard dozens of times, but not so mad he'd sulk with Steve.

James did not seem like somebody who'd pout childishly over something that petty.

Then again, he'd only known him for a short while.

The blond sighs, finishing the pancake he was eating. He'd been a little surprised to find out James could actually make pancakes, not to mention how he was fairly good at it. Perhaps, even more surprising was the fact he took the effort to make them, despite being seemingly mad at Steve. Hence, the captain felt James wasn't keeping his distance out of anger. Suddenly, he heard a familiar beeping noise: it was that thing James used to communicate with somebody, probably Fury.

Usually he carried it with him, but this time it was sitting on the round kitchen table. Slowly, Steve gets up from the couch. He feels a wave of dizziness wash over him instantly, and he leans against the coffee table for support.

A cold shiver runs down his spine, but it's not too bad, and he manages to reach the kitchen table. Steve wasn't sure what to do, honestly; it did not sound like James had heard it as there were no footsteps coming out of the cat-room, but Steve was hesitant on calling out for him as well, given the silent treatment he'd been getting today. Steve could not really read the message himself given the fact his eyes still did not work well.

The situation had improved though; instead of just shadows and light, he could now see basic shapes and color, but it was not good enough for reading text as everything was badly blurry, and his eyes stung really bad if he kept them open for too long.

Steve just leans against the table, contemplating on what to do, when he feels a presence behind him.

At first, he figures it's one of the cats, but then Steve realizes it was too big of a presence for a kitten. As he turns, his arm brushes against a metallic one, and Steve jumps in surprise; James had sneaked up behind him and was now just standing there. He could not really tell anything about the man's state of mind, given the fact he could not see his expression, but the Captain could still sense the tenseness emitting from him. "Your....uh I think you got a message." James remains quiet, just reaching past him to pick up the thing, bringing him uncomfortably close in the process.

Steve remains quiet, just standing there and leaning against the table awkwardly, while the brunet reads through his message beside him. His human shoulder was almost brushing against Steve's, and the man was not sure if he should move further away or not.

"Well shit."

James mutters, and Steve tilts his head towards the man confused.

"Who is it?” Steve could feel the blue eyes on him.

"Natasha.” James’s voice is tense; clearly whatever message he’d received was not good.

Had Bruce perhaps found something out about Steve’s state that was concerning? More than what it already was.

"This ain’t about you." James comments as if sensing Steve’s train of thought.

“What is it then?”

The silence lingered between them, and for a moment Steve wonders if he’d gone back to being mute again.Then, the brunet’s voice breaks the silence.

“Personal. I…I have to go see what she got.”

The blond hums, then feels his head sway. Before he can collapse to the floor however, James quickly helps him back to the couch, holding his human palm against Steve’s forehead. “This seems pretty bad. But…some of your serum is clearly still working.”

“How so?”

“You’ve had flu for like, two weeks or so. An average person would’ve probably died already due to the strain it can cause to the body if prolonged.” James had a point, although this was also a little worrying; perhaps his symptoms weren’t caused by a common cold after all…Steve could not ever recall having one this long, not even when he was a sickly kid in Brooklyn.

“….I don’t know what to do right now.”

The brunet whispers quietly, more to himself than Steve.

His hand was still against Steve’s forehead, and it felt kind of comforting.

“I should go see Nat, this is important, but…”

The man continued his musings even after he let go of Steve, blue eyes focusing on the slightly pale blond on his couch. “If it’s important, go see her. Unless you can let her come here…?”

“No. Fury told me not to let any Avengers find out where I live for now, and that includes Natasha.”

“I think she might know already.”

James hums, and then chuckles a bit. “She probably does, but Fury’s more concerned of them being followed.” Steve hums, and then coughs a bit, making his head spin again a little. “Kinda wish I could bring you to the tower now…but haven’t gotten the all clear yet.” James mutters again, rubbing his back as Steve sits up to ease the coughing.

"Look, if whatever Natasha needs from you is important, you can go. I’ll be fine.”

“That is Kinda hard to believe that when you nearly coughed your lungs out.”

Steve huffs at that, then coughs again, feeling the smooth metal hand rub his back surprisingly gentle.

“I will be fine. I mean, your kittens will protect me if something happens, right?” Steve attempts at a lame joke, but he doesn’t hear the brunet laugh or even chuckle. Even the cats meowed in what seemed to be a protest at his words.

 

Suddenly, a hand brushes his cheek, and the next moment, Steve feels James just sort of...hold his face gently in his hands. Steve could feel his eyes examine him, and he tried his hardest not to gain color in his face. Steve had no idea why the man made him react this way; maybe he just wasn't used to being cared for this gently. Back when he'd been patched up after each mission during the war, the docs and nurses - and sometimes just his teammates - had been real rough because they were either in a hurry, or did not have many supplies for sedatives to ease the pain.

Things were better now, but even compared to the care received from modern hospitals, the way James did it was...it was almost affectionate.

"You look really pale." James comments quietly, clearly concerned. Steve felt the hands drift down, fingers brushing against the skin on his neck, then rest on his hoodie-covered shoulders. His touch made Steve shiver a bit and he could sense his face heat up a bit and gain color after all despite his best efforts, and Steve hoped the brunet would think it was because of his fever and not....whatever it actually was.

After a moment, James releases a slow sigh, and tugs the hood up to cover Steve's head. "Take a nap will you? I…I promise to be back as quickly as possible." He says simply, then stands up and throws the blanket over Steve. "I mean, by the end of the day if I don’t go, Natasha will murder me in my sleep for letting her wait. That would be bad for both of us."

Steve was unable to prevent himself from chuckling a bit at James’ grim joke. He hears James rustle around, probably getting his jacket and some other things, as well as putting up some food and water for his cats. Steve could also hear him place something beside him on the coffee table, and based on the scent it was tea.

"Really. Stay put; I don't know why your fever, or whatever it is, keeps doing this see-saw thing, but I don't like it."

His voice was stern, almost ordering. Steve just nods, having nothing to say to that, really.

It was not like he could do much, given the fact he felt pretty weak.

So, he lies down, propping the pillow a bit to lie more comfortably. There was a moment of silence, and then, a sigh. James then grabs what he needs and heads out without any further words, leaving Steve alone with the two cats, which meowed after their master, clearly unhappy that he left somewhere again. Steve settles down, holding a hand on his forehead.

For a moment he just lied there, letting the dizziness pass over.

Both of the cats eventually came to him, settling down at the feet end of the couch.

Well, the end his feet were on to be exact as there was no actual 'feet-end' to a couch.

Eventually, Steve feels well enough to sit up again and drink the tea. This time it tasted sweeter, probably had more honey on it. As he drank, Steve kept wondering what this morning's silence had been all about. James clearly wasn't angry at him or anything. As he curls up further, the two cats shift and move closer, and Steve allows them to nestle in his lap underneath the blanket.

He really wished he could actually see the cats, as watching them sleep could perhaps help out with his nerves a bit, but feeling their touch was good enough for now. As he finishes his tea, the nauseous feeling has passed, but there is a heavy weight lingering in his head, and Steve lies down, feeling sleepy. Granted, that's what he'd been mostly doing for the past two weeks or so, but he honestly had slept longer periods in the past.

Seventy years to be more exact, so honestly, he should not be too bothered by this.

At least he was warmer now.

 

 

_Steve could feel the cold snow hit on his face._

_He gazed up to the darkened skies, lying on the snow. It was quiet, almost like a moment after an intense battle._

_The entire world was too exhausted to make a noise, and just lied silent, like he did._

_As Steve turned his head, he realized he wasn't alone._

_Bucky was there, beside him. But he wasn't moving, his eyes were staring at the skies empty, no life in them._

_Somewhere in the distance above them, Steve could hear the whistle of a train._

_He tries to move, to get up, but he can't. He can't even move his head; he's forced to watch the lifeless body beside him, lying on the snow. There was blood around Bucky, coloring the whiteness around him, soaking into the snow and turning it reddish. He felt his eyes sting; the tears did not come out, no matter how much they tried._

_It just hurt._

_"Bucky...I'm so sorry..."_

_The lifeless form doesn't respond or move._

_It felt so....wrong._

_Bucky wasn't...he wasn't supposed to be like that. He'd promised, he never broke promises._

_H_ _e promised to be there, till the end of the line._

_Grief turns into anger, and frustration, and guilt, and bitterness._

_"Why? You promised me...you'd be there....why did you have to die?!"_

_Suddenly, the lifeless form shifts, and tilts his head towards Steve, gazing back with lifeless eyes._

_"And whose fault was that?"_

_Steve feels his heart freeze. No, not just his heart; his entire body freezes, as if the ice that had cocooned him for so many decades was creeping back to him._

_He tries to respond, tries to apologize._

_The ice creeps on his mouth, suffocating him._

_"Whose fault was it, Steve?!" The voice repeats, angrier. There was searing pain all over his body again._

_He lets out one last whimper, before the ice covers him completely._

 

 

"Steve!"

 

The blond man gasps, snapping out from his nightmarish dream-world. He felt incredibly dizzy and feverish, and his heart and body ached like never before. He was shaking, his breathing irregular, and there were tears on his eyes. They weren't bloody anymore, but it didn't really matter or ease his pain and anxiety one bit. Helplessly, Steve reaches out towards the voice, almost if a drowning man trying to get back out from under water.

A cool hand grasps the shaking limb, and the next thing he feels is somebody holding him in a tight embrace, whispering calming words to his ear.

"Shh, settle down will you; it was just a nightmare."

Steve clutches onto the body holding him, grasping at the leather jacket and the long hair, digging his fingers into the flesh shoulder of the man cradling him in his arms. He could smell the leather and outside air, even some exhaust fumes from the cars.

"It’s okay, Stevie, it's okay."

A hand pets his hair, and Steve buries himself against the form, sobbing, unable to control himself right now. He usually held back his emotions a lot, but his less-than-stellar state had left him emotionally vulnerable as well, and now it finally showed. He felt like he was in a fog of some sort, unable to focus on anything else but the warmth holding onto him, and the soft tone speaking to his ear; Steve could not make out the words exactly all the time, his mind was too far gone in this nightmare triggered and fever-fueled panic.

A soft brush of lips touches his cheek, and the arms around him tighten.

"Shh. It's okay. It wasn't your fault. None of it. Just settle down."

The blond feels another, soft kiss pressed at his temple, and it sends shivers down his spine, but this time more pleasant ones. He lifts his hands, shakily reaching for the person's face, touching it almost desperately; his fingers trace the strong, stubble covered jawline, the cheekbones, they grasp onto the hair of the person almost desperately, and he leans his forehead against his companion's, unable to even properly understand himself what he was doing and why.

"God...I'm...I'm so sorry...Bucky, forgive me...I'm sorry..." He stutters out, not even knowing why; his head was spinning, he was seeing images flash in his head.

From the war, from the current times, from his nightmares; it all spiraled into a chaotic mess.

He wasn't even sure if the dream was over yet, or if he was still stuck in a nightmare. Steve keeps repeating those words, knowing that Bucky would never hear them. He was unable to stop himself; like a broken record he kept saying it over and over. Then, something soft and warm presses against his mouth, silencing his words.

"Shut up." A curt, familiar tone grunts in his ear, before the softness returns against his lips.

Steve feels a strong shiver travel through his entire body, and then...he feels his mouth move on its own, responding to the kiss, and he tightens his grip around the form holding him.

His head was a mess, his mind completely gone haywire, where nothing made sense, reality and dream mixing up together; all Steve could focus on was the fact it felt good to be kissed like this, so his body responded to it automatically.

His hands hold onto his comforter firmly, and the kiss deepens, until Steve has to part his lips a little.

At this point, he was no longer aware at all, nor caring, if it was a dream or not; all he could tell, was that the man holding him close was Bucky. He just....he just knew it, even if he could not see him. It did not make sense, but it had to be Bucky.

The voice, the smell, it all felt so familiar.

"Steve..."

Bucky mutters out tilting his head aside a little to separate their mouths.

Steve did not want that; Bucky was right there, he was holding onto Steve, feeling very warm and alive, and Steve did not know how long this dream would last, so he gripped the brown hair, tugging on Bucky until their lips were firmly pressed together again. Bucky was unhappy about it, groaning at Steve disapprovingly, but then his lips responded, kissing him with such ferocity that it made Steve's already wobbly head spin even more.

He bit on Steve's lip, and the blond man lets out a whimper, tasting blood on the kiss now.

The hands that had previously held him gently, were now grasping onto him with such possessiveness and desperation, that it felt overwhelming; everything was, right now.

Steve had no control or care over anything what was happening, all he knew was that his body craved for the warmth it gained by holding onto Bucky right now. It was not just the external body heat against his; something within Steve was burning up as well. Suddenly, something cold brushed against the back of his neck. The next thing he knew, this cold grip dragged him away - or rather, pushed him away - and Steve falls on his back to the couch, his head a mess.

No, he did not want to let go now!

Steve tries to move back up, to reach for the presence he still knew was there, but that's when all the daze, the confusion, the chaos in his head gets too much to bear, and he just slumps down, passing out within seconds.

One last word escapes from his lips, before the blackness takes over his mind completely.

"Bucky...."

 

 

 

There was something cold against his forehead.

His entire body ached, like after a tough mission. Except that Steve knew he had not been on one for weeks. As he shifts a bit, Steve could hear someone get up and walk beside him. A hand hovers over his head, but then vanishes.

What on earth happened?

Steve suddenly feels like he has a hole in his memory. Perhaps due to the excessive fever he was going through right now.

"James? That you?" The man manages to ask after his mind clears enough.

The cool thing on his forehead was probably a water soaked towel, put there to ease his condition. The brunet doesn't respond, but he does release a relieved sigh, before walking back to wherever he'd sat on, possibly on the kitchen table. Steve manages to lift his hand to brush his face. He felt...strange. Not just because of the fever. The man was convinced that he'd... forgotten something, but he wasn't sure what it was.

His fingers brush over his lips, and that’s when he pauses; there was a clear cut to his lip, one that wasn't there before. It almost felt like he'd bit on it during his sleep, but it was not something Steve would do; he was known to throw around when sleeping if he was having a nightmare, but he usually just smacked his hand or a leg against something hard, not chew on his lips.

Which meant....

"Oh god..."

Steve's head clears now, and realization sinks in. He sits up abruptly, only to be almost forced down again by his sickly state. His face was fuming, and this time it clearly wasn't because of the fever or anything like that. James was quiet, but Steve could feel the blue eyes on him.

"I..." Steve's words die in his throat; he'd never felt so...vulnerable and ashamed before.

He'd been in the middle of emotional turmoil and feverish dream, yes, but it did not change the fact that what had apparently happened....Jesus. He wanted to sink underground so badly right now.

".......I'm sorry." He manages to stutter out weakly, curling up to himself.

Steve had never felt so tiny in his entire life, not even when his ma gave him a whooping. Not even....well, that moment in the train was definitely worse, but still. This felt pretty bad.

"......You weren't thinking straight."

James' tone was perfectly neutral; it was worse than anger and resentment, which Steve felt he deserved right now. The man was probably equally tense about this, and did not know how to approach it, or how to feel about it.

"I know, but...I should not when you already...Jesus, I'm..." Steve's tone was shaking, and his voice died down.

".....Neither was I."

This surprised the blond man a bit, and he remains quiet, too scared to say anything. James releases a slow sigh, clearly contemplating his next words closely. He could tell Steve was upset, ashamed, and clearly did not want to worsen it.

"I...there's something I gotta admit to you." Steve felt his heart race faster for some reason.

"I...the reason why I agreed to do this thing - watch after you - it..."

The brunet pauses, as if whatever he was going to say was difficult to get out of his mouth. Steve waits in silence, curled up into a tight ball like a scared child, waiting for scolding.

"I...lied. Kind of. The guy I mentioned, he's...actually not here anymore."

Steve feels his mind pause. "What?"

"When you asked me about...I said he did not know I was alive. Well, that was because he's...not here anymore."

"He's...dead?"

"...I...yeah, kind of." James' tone had gone softer, and Steve could imagine he was perhaps looking out of the window right now, in his thoughts. Steve could imagine the man does that, even if he'd never physically seen him do so. "The thing is...you are a lot like him." Steve's heart skips a beat; he...had not expected that at all. The man uncurls a bit, dropping his hand to his lap instead of holding his knees against him. The two cats meow somewhere around James; they were probably wondering why their master and his guest were so tense right now.

"And when you....when that happened...I...I shouldn’t have done it. And after you…..I should have told you to snap out of it, but I didn't. Not right away, so...I should be the one saying sorry."

Steve remains quiet, processing James' words slowly. He suddenly understood his care and compassion - which was at odds with what Steve witnessed on the battlefield - a lot better. It wasn't just...well, Natasha had said the man had two sides to him, and honestly, it's like Steve had thought before; a lot of the things he did had always felt a little too affectionate coming from a stranger, to Steve.

He could understand the man being a nurturer to his cats, but him...it had always felt a little too much effort for somebody you barely know.

It raised another question though; why hadn't Steve actually ever commented on it?

In fact, why hadn't he felt bothered at all about James' overly affectionate behavior, because Steve had to be honest, he hadn't been, aside from the blushing. Was it just because he'd been too nice and polite to say so?

No....it couldn't be that; like said, for some reason it had not bothered him, just confused a little.

"I'm sorry. Shoulda not have let you do that; you weren't in your right mind. Panickin' and all that shit."

James sighs, guilt clear in his voice; Steve now noted he actually had an accent to his speech, which the man had been hiding before.

It sounded familiar, but Steve could not quite place it right now as his mind was too full of questions.

They just sit there in silence for a while, until Steve finally breaks it. "It's....fine. I guess we both...weren't thinking straight."

"....yeah." There was another pause in the air, and Steve could hear James shift uncomfortably.

".....I...was wondering though. I never took Captain America as somebody, who would...you know..."

"I did not, either." Steve admits.

Now that his head was clearing up, he could not stop but wonder why it had happened in the first place. Why'd he...even if he had imagined that James was Bucky, why would he have thought of kissing him? Or responding to it? It wasn't something they'd done...back then… Strangely enough, Steve did not feel like he was entirely against the idea; it did not feel like some sort of...insanity brought by a fever or poisoning.

He was fairly certain it stemmed from something that had already existed within him, and his messed up state had just broken some sort of boundary. That....it honestly unnerved Steve a bit. He did not know what to think about this prospect, that there was potentially something he hadn't known about himself.

God, he was having way too many questions and confusion circle around in his head right now; Steve did not have the physical capacity to really think about all of them.

"....This is an awkward topic change, but....the stuff Natasha wanted to talk to me about. There’s something I gotta go and do.” "Oh?" That was an awkward change, but it sounded like something important.

"I…it’s just something I feel I have to do. It’s like my responsibility and all. I managed to convince Fury to let me do this.”

"I see...How long will it take?"

"Well...it's in Cleveland, so probably two to three days or so, but that depends."

Steve considers it; being left alone even for that short period did not sound like a good prospect, especially not now when his fever made him hallucinate apparently. It did not really sound like a good option, which meant they’d probably made plans to bring Steve elsewhere where he could be monitored. "Well...I guess that means you bring me back to the tower."

"Negative. Stark had another cyber-attack to his system; probably tried to use his stuff to track you down." Okay, that did not sound good.

"Then...one of them could come here."

"I'm not letting them find out where I live." James' tone was overly harsh, but Steve kind of understood it. Besides, he did not feel like talking to any of the Avengers about his internal struggle, let alone show it.

“We came to the conclusion there’s really only one person who could come here and watch after you while I’m away."

"Who?"

"My shrink-slash-former-neighbor."

Steve lifts eyebrow at that.

"You...know him actually. It's Wilson." If Steve had his eyes in his disposal properly, they would have widened now.

"Sam?!" So then....the strange patient Sam had spoken about was James? As in, this James. It could be somebody else, but somehow Steve could imagine his guardian to do the stuff Sam mentioned. "Yeah. He’s actually currently in New York. He was attending to some family business, so Fury asked him to drop by for you.”

Out of all people Steve knew, Sam was easiest to talk to.

This felt like a lucky break honestly, as he desperately needed someone like Sam to talk to right now.

 

 

It wasn't until the evening came by that Sam finally arrived. While they'd waited for Wilson to arrive, the atmosphere in the house had been tense. They had not really said a word to one another, and James had mostly rustled around the house, probably preparing for whatever task he was going to do. He did come and check on Steve at times, when the blond man started shifting uncomfortably in the couch due to his fever, and would replace the warmed towel with a cooler one. He avoided touching Steve as much as possible, even when doing that.

The cats did not seem to care that much about the strange tenseness in the air anymore, as they both came to Steve for petting. Punky even brought him a cat toy, though Steve was too dizzy to play with the cat. When there was a knock on the door, Steve felt relief wash over him; all this awkwardness accompanied with his feverish state was really uncomfortable.

"Thanks for doing this, Sam."

James says almost the second Sam is in the apartment. The African-American male just shakes his head and gives Barnes a pointed look. "Just so you know; I had to cancel my tickets for a baseball match because of this." The brunet just shrugs, muttering a 'sorry' under his breath. The man was tense, and Sam could sense something was up again. He drops his bag to the kitchen table, looking around a bit; the place was much tidier than usual, and did not have a weapon hidden in every corner like last time he'd been there. Steve was resting on the couch, a bandage around his eyes.

He looked...really shitty to be honest; pale like a ghost, shivering, and even his voice sounded weak when he greeted Sam with a smile.

Not like the Captain America people saw in the newsreels and propaganda stuff, for sure.

"Shouldn't he go and see a doctor?"

"Can't; it's caused by the poison that ruined his eyes, and the people who splashed it at his face are still after him; hacked Stark tower again to try and use his tech to locate Rogers."

"...I see."

Sam could sense there was more to the story than that, but it did not belong to him, so he did not ask questions.

He wasn't an Avenger, it wasn't his business. He was here just to look after the feverish Rogers while James was gone on a mission, because he did not want to leave Steve by himself. Sam could clearly tell why. "Don't take too long; I can't babysit Cap for more than few days." Sam reminds Barnes, though if he was honest, he'd stick around as long as he needed to; Steve was his friend as well after all.

"Yeah. I try not to." The brunet mutters, glancing at Steve with a strange look, before throwing on his black leather jacket, which concealed the gun he had.

Hitman business again, huh? Sam wasn't sure what he thought about the usual 'jobs' James' boss had for him, but again, none of his business.

"Be careful, will ya?"

"Black Widow's got my back."

Sam whistles at that, smirking lightly. "Lucky bastard."

"She was my pupil, Wilson; way too fuckin' young, so don't get any ideas!" Barnes grunts irritated, predictably; he was a bit protective over Romanoff, and did not approve this kind of comments, acting like an overprotective dad with a shotgun when somebody said stuff like that about her.

Literally a dad with a gun, as Sam knew Barnes had a bunch of them stashed away somewhere.

"Yeah yeah, get outta here already." He laughs, and Barnes gives him a middle finger - though he's clearly not serious - and heads out.

"I'm sorry about the match, Sam." Steve comments, as Sam slumps down beside him. "Nahh, I'm good; I was just messing with him. Truth to be told, I had no plans for this week."

"But...don't you have other...people you see?"

"Actually, others come in to these group meetings; group therapy is actually my main business. James' a special private case for obvious reasons."

"Oh...why you, though?"

Sam pauses for a moment, then figures, there was no reason to hide it from Cap. "He was my neighbor for about a year; managed to make friends with him despite his habit of being a paranoid fucker, and then the Eye-patch Samuel. L. Jackson came to me and asked me to be his shrink because he seemed to trust me; I figured why not as I got along with him already, and the pay was pretty good too."

Oh right, James had mentioned Sam used to be his neighbor.

Sam smirks, and then releases a small sigh.

"Had no fucking clue how bad his case was; but you know, I don't really regret it."

"Well, glad to know he's worth the trouble."

"That is a bad choice of words for this situation, but I get what you mean." Sam huffs out a small laugh.

There is a moment of silence, and the man could sense Steve had something on his mind. "So...how have you been holding up, Cap?" "Well...it's been....quiet. No missions, not much contact with my team, and I can't even watch tv."

Sam chuckles a bit, but his face was in a concerned frown. Steve was talking in a light tone, but he was clearly troubled by something, and Sam wasn't sure if it was just his boredom. In fact, Steve had the same tense face on that Barnes had had, before he'd left. Something must have happened between them, that was now bothering Steve. "He's been a good host for you I hope; James ain't the...you know, most social kind of people."

Steve's expression shifts a bit, and he curls up under the blanket, turning his head away. Sam suddenly realized his face was.... gaining color.

Captain America was blushing like crazy, and Sam could bet his left foot it wasn't because of the fever this time.

"....Alright man, its fine. I won't judge you; what happened?" Sam asks after a moment, trying to hide his amused tone as it was kind of funny to see Steve go red like that.

Captain America, the usually serious, almost sulky leader of the Avengers blushing like a shy teenager girl; now that was a sight to see for sure.

Steve curls up even more, clearly trying to hide his embarrassment, or force it down like a stubborn kid trying to hide it that they were lying or something. A really big, triangular kid with bulking muscles, but still. "I just....I don't know how to talk about it." Steve sighs after a moment. "......Did he, like, reveal you something you did not expect?"

"Well....." Steve rubs his neck, then shivers and tugs the blanket around him more, this time due to his condition clearly.

He looked really bad, so Sam got up and decided to get him something warm to drink, hopefully with vitamins in it. He both was and wasn't surprised, when he found a good few bottles of orange juice and different teas from Barnes' cabinets; the man had probably made sure he had stuff for Steve that could help, as Sam knew from experience that Barnes himself did not actually drink tea much.

It was a surprise to see the stuff there by itself, but the second you added Rogers to the equation, it made all the sense in the world.

Sam huffs, wanting to roll his eyes; how the hell was Barnes able to hide his identity from Steve when he basically spoiled and nurtured the Captain like he was his spouse or something. Seriously, Sam was one hundred percent sure that the only reason the guy's house was tidy was only because it made everything easier for Steve, not having to stumble on bunch of cat-toys, thrown clothes on the floor, or weapons.

Wilson had legit once stepped on a freaking rifle, just lying in the middle of the floor. It had safety on, but it still spooked the crap out of him.

Especially after James had just casually picked it up and shrugged with a half-assed apology, leaning it against a wall beside his door where it had originally been apparently. Sam sometimes swore Barnes either had a weapon-hoarding problem, or he was a gun-fetishist.

Both were very likely.

"He's apparently not one for dames, or goes both ways." Steve comments suddenly, and Sam let's out an acknowledging hum.

He'd known this already in a way; the stuff Barnes had said about Steve, albeit indirect, it always gave Sam the vibes that he'd had some serious affections towards the guy. That was before Sam had found out officially that the 'punk' from James' past was in fact Captain - freaking - America.

"Yeah, he pretty much implied that to me too during our sessions." Sam says casually.

"Oh...really?"

 "Yep. Does that bother you?" Sam asks with a frown as he sits down, and Steve immediately shakes his head. "No, no! That's not...I don't...each to their own and all. It's not that." He rushes to say then shifts to sit more upright, though he leans his head and upper body against the couch's back, clearly too sick to just sit normally. Sam waits patiently as Steve collects himself.

"I...I think he..." Steve licks his lips, feeling extremely nervous: he knew Sam would not judge, but, he still felt really uneasy about this. "I think he has a....thing for me." Sam lifts an eyebrow.

"A thing?"

Steve hides his face with a shaky sigh.

For a moment, the room was quiet, and then Sam leans back and shakes his head. "I'm not surprised to be honest." "What?" "Well...he's generally a guy who tends to avoid people, and it took a while for him to even open up to me, but, here you are, stranded in his house; it's only been what, two or three weeks, and based my observations when comparing to how this place usually is, he's almost taking better care of you than his cats. That's saying something, because the dude fucking spoils them in my eyes."

Steve breathes in slowly and shivers a bit; the fever was really making him feel awful, and all this emotional crap probably didn't help.

"Drink your tea; it helps at least a little bit." Sam reminds him with a reassuring tone, and Steve sips his drink. It didn't taste like much as it was herbal, but the man knew from experience now, that it did help the most, at least in his case.

"So, that's what bothering you? That James might have a crush on you or something?" Sam asks, trying his hardest not to sound amused or teasing.

It was not that he was making fun of Steve; the whole situation was just a little bizarre and kind of hilarious in a sad way; Steve did not know everything about his caretaker, things that he really should. James had not told Steve his full name and identity yet, that was pretty clear as Sam was fairly sure he'd seen a very different interaction once he arrived.

Hell, he would not have been called at all perhaps.

"You said you wouldn't laugh." Steve had picked on his amusement after all.

"Sorry, it's just kind of funny to see you are red-faced. Seriously though; why would you be so embarrassed about this? I bet a lot of people have a thing for Captain America, hell, I bet a couple of those Agents you've worked with have at least a bit of a man-crush, or a fan-crush on you." He nudges Steve's shoulder with a humorous tone, and the man lets out a bit of a complaint.

"It's so....I'm not used to it, Sam!" Steve huffs, his face red.

"Riiight, you never had anybody flirt with you, cap."

"Not...a guy."

Sam turns quiet for a moment. Steve's tone had gone uneasy again, and Wilson could tell there was something else too, something that Steve found hard to state out loud. The story wasn't finished just yet, but Steve was clearly unsure if he should tell everything to Sam or not. "You know, you don't have to share this stuff with me if it's too hard."

"No I....kind of wanted you around, because it's easier with you, Sam. And I...feel like I need somebody to talk to right now." The man flashes a smile at Steve. Then he realizes the Captain cannot see it.

"Well, happy to hear I am of help to Captain America himself; in fact, be glad you can't see my face right now 'cause it's beaming so badly you'd go blind - again." Steve lets out a small laugh and seems to relax a bit, just drinking his tea.

After a moment of silence again, Steve seems to finally gather enough courage to spill the beans to the rest of the story. "I...had a nightmare earlier. When I woke up, I wasn't sure if everything was real or not." Sam remains quiet, just letting the man share what was on his mind. He was used to listening to people and their troubles; it was his job after all. Besides, you did not often get such trust from Steve Rogers himself, where he was willing to share his deeper thoughts and emotional turmoil with you.

It was an honor, not just because he was Cap, but because he was Steve, and getting Steve Rogers to trust you this much was damn hard.

He could have faith in you, but he would never trust you fully, until you earned it.

That's what Barnes often said about him, anyway.

"He'd come back, so he saw it and tried to calm me down." Steve drinks more of his tea, suddenly looking a bit melancholic. It was hard to tell his expressions given the fact his eyes were covered, so the fact Sam was able to tell his mood was saying something. "I was dreaming about Bucky, you know."

"Holy shit man."

Sam says with utter sympathy; out of all the things Steve saw nightmares of, Sam knew these were the worst.

Sam also could not stop but glance at the door, honestly a bit annoyed that James had not said anything yet.

The brunet could probably make Steve's suffering stop, but the man was too much of a coward to gain the spine to fucking do it. Then again, Sam was sure James knew it himself, he knew he was a coward when it came to this. Besides...James probably wasn't even aware of what Steve dreamed about. He held himself in such tiny regard that he probably could not even imagine Steve seeing bloody nightmares about him thanks to guilt. Hell if he knew, honestly; even if he was good friends with Barnes, Sam actually had hard time in understanding how his brain worked at times; the programming done to him had probably set few screws lose that he could not put properly back in place ever again.

"When I woke up....I just...I don't know." Steve's voice snaps Sam out of his thoughts, and he turns to look at Steve again.

"What happened?" Steve puts the tea away and just brushes through his hair with a shaky sigh.

"I...for a moment I thought he was Bucky." Sam bites his lip and looks aside; man, what was he supposed to say to that?

Steve had no idea how right he was.

The man doubted that Barnes would like it if he spilled the beans to Steve, but...the same time, it seemed like he was finding it impossible to do it himself. Somebody would have to say something, but Sam wasn't sure it should be him.

"Sam?"

"Yeah, I hear ya; just...Jesus I'm sorry man, that you had to go through that again."

"It's...okay, not your fault."

Steve shivers a bit again, and Sam helps him wrap the blanket around him better and prop his pillows a bit to rest in a more comfortable position. Wasn't this weird? He was tending sick Captain America, in his best friend's house, while Cap did not know it was his best friend's place. Well, then again, Sam could not even tell what their relationship had been anymore. In his eyes, James seemed to have this huge one-sided affection for Cap, whereas Cap just saw him as a really close and important friend.

Except that Sam wasn't so sure about that, either.

Jesus, these two old men sure knew how to cause headaches. "So, you thought he was...what did you do?" Steve remains quiet, and for a moment, Sam thinks he actually fell asleep due to his fever.

"I kissed him." It was clear Steve had to force those words out of him, though his voice was sleepy, so perhaps it was easier than it usually would have been. Sam just stares at him for a moment, and then gets up, rubbing his head.

“I mean…he did do it first, but…I responded to it.”

What in the....what the hell was he supposed to do with these two fools?

"I don't know why I did it; Bucky and I....we never...not like that." Steve sounded very tired, and was probably unaware of the way Sam was pacing around, shaking his head in frustration; he wasn't sure if he should laugh, or just punch Barnes in the face once he came back.

In fact, Sam was fairly sure that once the man did come back, he would punch him and just yell at him to get this farce over with already.

"But now....I don't know. Times were different back then." Steve mutters out, and then shivers again; the fever really felt awful.

"Jesus Christ Rogers."

"I know I shouldn't have..."

"No, not that!" Steve goes quiet, and tilts his head towards Sam.

The man rubs his head, then his eyes, and finally slumps back down to the couch. Steve remained quiet; probably thinking Sam was disapproving of what he'd done or something along those lines.

"Don't get me wrong, man; got nothing against that. But..."

Sam sighs, rubbing his eyes again. What should he say, honestly?

Steve looked so spooked and uneasy, clearly confused by his own actions.

However...Wilson wasn't sure if he was in the condition to handle such big news, regarding to Barnes being alive, especially when it came to the part as to why and how he was alive. Yeah. Honestly, that damned fool should tell Steve himself; Sam was his shrink, passing love-notes wasn't part of his job.

"I just...he must be mad at me now." Sam gazes at Steve, hearing the guilt from his voice. He knew he had to say something.

"....Nah, he was probably angry at himself."

"He did imply that..."

"Okay, look, Cap. I...probably should not share this with you, but I think you might as well know about it. You're probably right."

"What?"

"About him having a thing for you; you remind him of the guy he used to love, so it's natural that he grew attached to you; he's gone through some shit so it's expected for him to latch onto something familiar."

"He ....did say something like that too."

"Then why are you freaking out so much like this is the first time you found out?"

"Because....I...did not want to...give any wrong ideas or anything. I mean...it feels wrong, given he's lost the one he loved....and I just happen to remind him." Sam pauses, examining Steve for a moment.

Sure, he saw where Steve was coming from; it felt a little iffy to do this when somebody told you you reminded their supposedly dead spouse, it made it feel like you were taking advantage of somebody's affection. Except, Wilson bloody well knew that was not the case here, and if Barnes would just fucking _spill his beans_ , all this confusion and unnecessary worry could be avoided.

 

Besides, as Sam looked back at the brief conversations he'd had with Steve about Barnes....honestly, he would not have been surprised if Steve actually had always carried a torch for his best pal without even noticing. Barnes' worry over Steve not responding to his feelings felt really ungrounded at this point, an excuse to keep hiding.

These two old fools honestly made Sam think of those teenager couples he saw at times; shy, nervous, new to the whole dating business and circling around each other unsure on what to do. Basically, Steve looked like he'd just discovered he had a crush for someone and was trying to process it through his feverish and slow mind, which was not going to work.

"Look mate, I don't think you are up for thinking stuff like this out. You should take a nap before you exhaust your brain."

Sam says with a sigh, finally. Steve clearly did not seem ready to ponder all this. He was too exhausted, and Sam was not going to beat him to do this right now, no fucking way. "I...yeah, I guess." The blond man mumbles out, sounding like he was already half-asleep.

"Just take a nap, Cap. I'll watch after the cats, and maybe cook up something for once you wake up, alright?"

"Yeah...okay. Thanks, for listening, Sam." Steve mutters out, and then falls asleep.

Sam is left there, just watching him sleep for a while, before sighing and getting up, grasping a beer from the fridge. "What the heck am I supposed to do with you two old fools? One's openly head-over-heels but can't say shit, other's obliviously in love and doesn't realize what's going on, Seriously..."

He grunts, drinking his beer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fifth chapter. Bucky has to go out of town. To do what? you'll find out in the next chapter  
> Hint: it has something to do with something red with a star on it


	6. Lingering past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky has to face his demons. However, the most obvious one turns out not to be the worst.   
> Steve is feeling conflicted about the situation.  
> Sam still thinks these two fools need to get their shit together.

"You're late."

Fury comments, as he finally appears at their designated meeting-place, this time it was a safe-house just outside Washington. It changed almost every time; they rarely met in a same place twice. Romanoff was there too, and the apartment seemed a bit like it was one of hers, if the man was honest; it definitely had 'Natasha' look to it in his eyes, if there was such a thing as 'Natasha' style in house decor.

"Your own fault; watching after a Steve Rogers is full day job." Barnes responds curtly; he was in no mood for Fury's verbal beating.

The man seemed to pick on his mood as he just went straight to business, not bothering to give him a rant like he normally would.

"I would not have pulled you away from your post under normal circumstances, Soldier, but given how insistent you were about dealing with this personally – and how urgent this matter is – I trust that Captain will be safe under Wilson’s care for now."

“Sam’s tougher than one might first think.” Bucky states simply with a shrug, crossing his arms.

Fury just hums, and opens a file, sliding it across the table so Natasha and Bucky could take a look. It was a picture of a house with nothing too special about it. Yet the name mentioned in those files made Bucky’s blood freeze in his veins.

"Where?" The brunet barely recognized his own voice; it was border lining his “asset” tone, the one that usually was a sign of trouble.

Fury said nothing to that however, clearly not too concerned about it. The man had heard and witnessed Barnes shift into this cold aura before missions multiple times already.

"Cleveland. Romanoff's been doing some intel gathering already." Fury turns to look at the woman, who releases a slow sigh, and turns the laptop she was handling. James did not exactly trust on those things as they could easily be tracked, but he could not avoid technology altogether nowadays, so the man kept his complaints to himself. The laptop shows a set of photographs about an older looking man with a short hair and suspicious look to his eyes.

Despite aging, Barnes could still recognize him, and he felt a little sick in his stomach.

The man shakes his head, trying to clear his thoughts. He had no reason to be afraid.

"Mr. Karpov has been keeping a low profile; he barely leaves his house, which is understandable given his history." Indeed, most pictures taken were about the man's house, either through the windows or on his yard, rarely showing him anywhere else.

"We believe he still has the Winter Soldier program records - the book to be exact - and it's hidden somewhere in his house." Natasha was very formal explaining this for some reason, though she did glance at Bucky at times with a concerned frown. The man kept his face blank, forcing all of his personal emotions aside.

"Has he had any contact with anybody else?" Bucky asks instead.

"We...I have been tracking his cellphone records and computer data, but nothing showcases any activity regarding to anything Hydra-related. In fact, the man barely uses his cellphone or a computer; he's even more paranoid than you."

The brunet releases a slow sigh, crossing his arms. Fury was examining him closely, probably wondering if it was a good idea to send him after the guy after all; this...could turn personal, and Fury had enough messes in his hands.

Barnes knew however that he had to do this personally; face his own demons. It was as if he was testing himself with this, whenever he truly was free of the darkness that had gripped him for all those years or not.

"Retrieve the book, and preferably bring him back alive; Karpov might have some useful information to us, even if he hasn't been in touch with his fellow scum for years."

"Do you have a reliable place to put him in, without having somebody to bust him out or kill him?"

Fury remains quiet for a moment, and then nods faintly.

"That, of course, will depend on whenever you don't off him first, Barnes."

".....That almost sounds like you'd let me do it."

James points out after a moment of silence. Fury looks aside, releasing a slow sigh.

"Either way, we cannot hand the guy over to Hydra, not with his knowledge, let alone the book. If we can't have him, ice him. I leave the choice to you, Barnes." Fury stares at him with a serious look. James had a feeling this was not just out of practicality; the man knew how...personal this was, and for some reason felt the need to give Barnes the choice to decide on his former torturer's fate.

Have a go at revenge so to say.

Fury was clearly testing him as much as Bucky himself was.

"We might have a small chance tomorrow, to ambush him in his own house; he has a doctor’s appointment tomorrow, which he will likely go to." Natasha comments and puts away the laptop.

"Sounds like we are cutting it close, then."

"If we leave immediately, we should arrive there early in the morning; his appointment is at 9:30 so it leaves us time to prepare."

"You better indeed prepare, Soldier; he may be just one man, but Karpov is not to be taken lightly."

Fury pauses for a moment, giving him a pointed look. "Mental preparation is perhaps in order the most."

James says nothing to that.

 

 

"What are you gonna do?" The drive towards Cleveland had been quiet so far; the night had fallen, and roads were fairly empty. Natasha was driving, knowing that James needed room right now as he had a lot in his mind. His eyes were closed, and he'd sat there like that, arms crossed and sunken in thought for the entire trip so far. "I...don't know to be honest. Fury left this real open ended."

The woman hums, focusing on driving again as she turns from an intersection.

"....How about Steve?"

The blue eyes snap open predictably, and the man stares at Natasha for a moment.

"....Why are you bringing him up now?" James was awfully defensive; the woman could not stop but wonder what had happened.

"As a fellow Avenger, I wish to know what he is up to."

The brunet huffs and rubs his eyes.

"He's....well, can't say good as his fever has been pretty bad, but Sam's watching after him."

"Your shrink?"

"Apparently they know each other."

"It's a small world." The woman hums.

 

For a moment, they both remain quiet again. "Alright, ask. I know you want to." James sighs finally, and his posture slumps a bit.

"You just...got a little defensive when I asked about Steve."

"I..."

"James...what happened?"

The woman asks with a gentle tone, sensing that the man was a little upset about something.

"Steve....has nightmares. I did not know about it, really, but I saw him have one just this morning."

"....He does sleep rather restlessly, now when you mentioned that."

"Shit, Nat, it was...he was dreaming about me."

The woman sighs, brushing her hair a bit, keeping her gaze in the road; it may have been empty, but it was still crucial to keep your eyes on the task at hand. Besides, James found it easier to talk when she wasn't looking at him directly.

"I'm not surprised. You seemed to be really important to him, and...Steve seems to be one of those people who blame themselves about anything bad that happens to their loved ones." Natasha's voice was sympathetic; she understood how it felt to carry large amounts of guilt inside you.

"He thinks I...that I'd be mad at him for...for fuck's sake, he knows me; he knows me better than that!" The man huffs frustrated, rubbing his eyes again.

"Then tell him that." The red haired woman offers with a gentle tone.

"I can't. I just..."

"James. We both know how much you care about him; you need to stop wallowing in your guilt and give yourself a chance."

The man remains quiet; he knew Natasha was right, but...it wasn't easy. Ten years, and it still wasn't easy to do. "Let's just focus on the task at hand, alright?" He huffs. The woman glances at him, but says nothing in response. She could probably tell from his tone this discussion was over.

 

The house was in a more remote location, with not that many neighbors nearby, which fit together with the man's paranoid nature. It was very early morning, the sun was barely peeking from below the horizon. Barnes was still sitting in the car they'd hidden well away from sight, while Natasha had gone closer to scout out the situation. He was flipping a knife in his hand out of habit, his entire body tense and ready for action. James knew it was pointless to be afraid; Karpov was just an average man, albeit cunning. He could easily overpower him without even using his best asset, the metal arm that currently twirled the knife around in his fingers.

That had been a huge reason behind the mental conditioning and torture aside from having him do shit without question; prevent him from snapping his handlers’ necks that he could have easily done - and had, few times when their system failed.

Eventually, Natasha arrives back, slipping at the seat beside him fluidly; her ballerina training was showing in her movements right now. "Well?"

"He's in his house still, everything seems in order. I did not pick up anything unusual." She pauses, and then looks at him with a questioning look.

"What do you want to do James?"

The man just stared ahead, his blue eyes almost emotionless. Had she not known better, Natasha would have thought he was already under brainwashing. After a moment, he turns his gaze at her, and the knife stops in his hand.

"The priority is the book; we don't know where exactly it is in the house, and somehow I doubt he'll spill his beans about its location. Preferably we dig around while he's gone, and locate it before he comes back."

"And then? If we do find it before he returns?"

James pauses, turning his gaze away from her again. ".....We wait till he comes back, and knock him out. Let's...try and avoid a scene."

Natasha gazes at him for a moment, clearly trying to read if he meant what he said, or was inching to sink the knife into Karpov's throat. James wasn't sure himself, to be honest. "Very well. I'll sneak in his house to find the book, you keep watch."

The man just nods, knowing why she proposed it this way; Natasha was giving him a chance of not having to confront the man, and potentially do something he could regret. It took two more hours, before they finally spotted the man leave his house. As James watched from their hiding place, his hand gripped at the handle of his gun very tightly, and he had to bite his lip to remain still and calm. Once the man's car is out of sight, Natasha sneaks in to the house, swiftly unlocking the door. Against their suspicions, there were no booby-traps on the house.

James keeps an eye on the road and the surrounding areas, at times seeing Natasha in the window as she searched through the place. He was really uneasy, and the fact the weather was really cloudy and rainy did not help his mood one bit. She could hear some rustling in the com-link in his ear as the woman went through some papers and books in the house.

_"He doesn't seem to read much, all of these are dusty."_

"I doubt he would just have it sitting in his shelf."

_"I know, but I had to check."_

The woman chuckles a bit in her mic. As time passes, the man becomes more and more uneasy; he was highly aware that if the man came back before Natasha found anything, things could go haywire real fast, and it could even perhaps force his hand to do something he should not.

"Anything?"

_"No sign of it...wait, hold a moment."_

The line goes quiet for a second, and then the man hears a loud crashing sound. He instantly sits up from the car and looks towards the house.

"Natasha? What's going on?"

_"Sorry for not warning; there was a secret room hidden behind a wall, and I think....yes! I found it!"_

James felt his heart skip a beat, and then start racing like crazy. This was it; after ten years, they finally found that damned thing. Perhaps they could finally burn any bridges that were left in his brain to the twisted existence from years ago. To...stop him from being a loaded gun that could be triggered at any moment.

_"Yes, it's all in here. The target list, your arm schematics, the code words. We definitely found it."_

James releases a slight, relieved sigh. Then, he spots something, a shadowy figure in the garden.

"Nat, we got company!"

Just as he said that, the man could hear a creaking sound, followed by a gunshot, and then the sounds of struggle. Feeling his heart raise in his throat, James sprints down towards the house, not even bothered about being seen right now. As he literally kicks in the door, he finds Natasha on the floor, bruise on her face and she was holding her shoulder; a figure rushed out of the back-door.

James quickly rushes by the woman's side, but she shakes her head.

"James, he took the book, go after him!"

"But..."

"I'm fine, go!"

Without further hesitation, he gets up and sprints.

This was familiar in all the more eerie ways; he'd done this before, as the Asset for Hydra. He'd chased after moving targets, knowing he'd catch them, for nobody escaped from the Winter Soldier.

No one.

A certain kind of cool calmness settles in his head, as he tracks down the escaping man; it was very reminiscent of the emptiness that resided in his head all those years ago.

There, a dark figure, rushing through the forest towards a car parked onto a small road. So the man had not truly left after all? And James thought he was paranoid. He speeds up only a fraction to his true speed, and reaches the escaping figure just as he steps out from the forest to the road. A metal arm grasps the fleeing former-Hydra-operative, and throws him against his own car with such force the car-door actually bends inwards.

The man falls to the ground, the book tumbling down from his hand.

His face was bloody, and his arm looked broken, an ankle was twisted. The Soldier walks past the book completely ignoring it, and grasps the man by the throat, dragging him up in the air and smashes his back against the car again, making the man cough blood.

As his eyes clear, he soon recognizes his former subordinate.

_**"So it was you, soldier; I heard rumors you'd switched owners."** _

He says in Russian; even after all these years, James could still recall his voice in chilling detail. The man's tone was calm, despite an evident death in his horizon.

The metal hand squeezes at his neck, making the man cough.

James was only barely aware of what he was doing; his killer instinct had kicked in, and right now, he was not entirely sure he was in control of his actions.

**_"I suppose it is a form of irony; have them kill me with my own hound."_ **

Barnes smashes him hard against the car, breaking the window now and probably sinking some shards in his back.

"James!"

Slowly, the blue eyes shift to look behind him. It was Natasha, she was holding onto her bleeding wound, looking at him almost....scared. It reminded James of that young girl he'd met and trained all those years ago, a girl who tried to hide her fear of the soldier, which had always been futile.

He always knew.

The Soldier knew if you were afraid.

"James...Fury needs him alive. Please, just restrain him."

The Widow's tone was now calm, but there was the lingering fear in her eyes. It felt wrong, out of place on Natasha's face. She was the Black Widow, his star student, a comrade, a friend, and she was not supposed to be afraid of him. She was never afraid, or at least did not show it this openly. James quickly shakes his head and drops the bloody man to the ground, grasping the book like it was something hot to hold.

"Sorry...lost my cool for a moment."

He mutters an apology to Natasha, who walks there, a little wobbly on her feet.

"Let's pack him up and bring to Fury. I doubt he'll put up a fight in that state."

The woman sighs, her voice a bit drowsy; she was clearly hiding how bad the injury actually was.

**_"That won't be necessary."_ **

The two turn to look at the man, who suddenly starts foaming from the mouth. Natasha rushes to him as quickly as she can, but the Russian collapses to the ground, having spasms, and a second later, doesn't move. "Shit! He had a poison capsule, I should've expected that." The woman checks his pulse, but it was too late, the poison worked fast.

Vasily Karpov was dead.

James just stares at the scene in front of him. It is an eerie reminiscent of another mission from years ago; a bloody man, beaten to the ground next to his vehicle in a remote road.

The only solace about this thing was that James did not feel bad or guilty about this one.

It wasn't a friend.

"Fury won't be happy about this." Natasha releases a slow sigh, as she gets up, only to sway on her feet. James quickly catches her, before she falls to the ground again. "We need to get that wound checked."

"Yeah, I...think I saw a first aid kit in his bathroom."

The woman muses out tiredly, still holding her bleeding shoulder. James glances around, noting that there were no people nearby. It made sense, given the remote road, the weather, and the early morning. "Do we leave him like that?" The woman asks after a moment. Without a word, James makes her sit next to a tree, and walks back to Karpov's corpse.

He lifts it up, almost shoving it to the driver's seat, not even caring to make it look very believable.

“We’ll inform Fury, he can handle the rest.” The man grunts, his voice low.

Then, he walks back to Natasha and cradles her gently, carrying the injured woman back to the house. Immediately, he goes to find the kit, and then proceeds to check on her bullet wound. The shot had gone clean through her left shoulder, and it was bleeding pretty badly, though the flow had already slowed down. He quickly wipes the excess blood away and then addresses the wound, bandaging it firmly so that the blood-flow would stop.

Natasha looked really pale already, and James felt his gut twist with worry.

This did not look good.

He grasps the phone he knew Natasha had, and pressed one; it was Fury's number on quick dial, James knew this as Natasha had told him a while back.

_"Romanoff, what's your status?"_

"It's me; Romanoff's down. She was shot in the shoulder."

_"What the hell happened?"_

"Karpov came back; shot Natasha to the shoulder and ran with the book. I caught him, but he had a poison capsule."

James summarizes the situation to Fury, who releases a slow, frustrated sigh.

_"That all, Soldier?"_

The man knew what Fury was asking.

"I...might have caused unnecessary injuries, but he would not have died from those. The bastard offed himself."

_".....Alright, I take your word for it. Luckily I got a person nearby who can come and extract Romanoff and handle the clean-up. Bring her to the rendezvous point."_

"What is it?"

_"Sent you the location to your pager."_

"Roger that."

With that, the call ends, and James turns his attention back to Natasha. She still looked pale, but at least she was not bleeding all over the couch. "Come on, Red. Let's get you out of here." He picks the woman up carefully, who leans against him with a small, weak smile.

"Haven't called me that in a while."

The man sighs and smiles a bit, too. "No, I haven't."

 

 

 

The person to pick up Natasha turned out to be a black haired woman named Maria Hill.

Barnes had heard of her, she was apparently Fury's right hand man - or woman in this case - and while he did not really know or trust her, Natasha seemed fine with the female agent. James did feel a bit easier however, as he recognized the other agent who was with Hill, a blond woman who, he knew had been spying on Steve back in his Washington apartment, for his own safety apparently, at least according to Fury. The only true reason, really, why he trusted in this particular blonde, was because he happened to know who she was exactly.

Or rather, whom she was related to.

The lady gives him an awkward nod as their eyes meet, but he doesn't respond to it.

She then proceeds to escort Natasha to a larger vehicle, which probably had some medical supplies in on itself.

"I'll take care of her and the rest from here, Barnes. You may head back." Hill says calmly, though the man could tell she was a little tense. He did not blame her, as he probably still had blood on him, and most likely it made him look menacing as all hell.

That, and he had a reputation; Barnes doubted Fury would not have given at least a little bit of info about him to her.

"About the object of interest you retrieved; Fury told me to tell you to keep it for now. It's safest in your hands."

James glances at the car he and Natasha had come there with, knowing that the red book currently rested on the passenger seat. "You guys better take care of her." He did not turn his gaze away from the car as he said that. His tone was a bit more hostile than intended; he just had this habit of being really protective over Natasha. It seemed to be some sort of big-brother instinct, which made sense as he had been one in the past.

"We will, don't worry."

"It's my second nature."

Hill lets out a thoughtful hum, and smiles.

"So I've heard."

 

 

He had not stuck around to watch the clean-up process regarding to Karpov's body.

He just wanted to get the damn blood off his clothes and go back home, back to Steve, as soon as possible. He'd thrown the blood-splattered leather jacket to the backseat, leaving him with the dark grey undershirt that covered his arms. It was colder this way, as the car's air conditioning was malfunctioning, but he did not care; James was used to cold.

The red book sat beside him on the passenger seat, and his gaze kept drifting at it.

By itself, the thing was nothing special; a red book with a black star on it. It was the insides that terrified him. The list of few words that were in there, that was all that separated him from the monster Hydra had groomed out of him. Part of James really wanted to just burn the damn thing, but he knew he shouldn't; if he ever wanted to be rid of his monstrous side, he needed that book and it's information to do it. There was more traffic on the roads now, so he did not have too much time to ponder on the object beside him as the man had to focus on driving.

However, as time passed, the road cleared from other drivers again, and he was right back at the center of his raging thoughts.

The radio was on, but his head had too much noise for him to really listen to the music, or mindless chatter the hosts were having. Suddenly, a wave of anxiety passes over him, and James drives the car to the side of the road, just leaning back and trying to catch his breath again. What had happened with Karpov...it had been too similar to how it was with the Asset.

He'd not lost his cool like he'd said to Natasha, it was honestly the opposite.

At that moment, he had not been angry, or vengeful.

He had just been completing a mission.

A mindset more foreign to him, but familiar to the Winter Soldier.

Barnes releases a deep breath, and then leans against the steering wheel for a moment. His breathing was shaky, and his vision a bit blurry. He even felt his hands tremble a bit. The man knew he really needed to get his thoughts back in order; dealing with a ghost from the past, he'd known this would be tricky, and honestly he should've expected something like this to happen. He'd hoped it would not have, but it did, and now he had to deal with it. For a moment, the man just breathed in and out, in and out, multiple times. He then felt his mind drift towards Steve again, and he let it go there, noting that thinking about the blond man honestly made him feel easier, even though he was a problem on his own, too, for James.

He thought back at what had happened last morning, when Steve'd had his panic-attack slash nightmare.

He hadn't really thought of kissing Steve per say; he'd just wanted desperately the man to stop sounding so pitiful and guilty.

To stop blaming himself for something that wasn't really his fault.

His body had moved, and the next thing he knew, Steve had actually responded to it.

The whole thing felt...bizarre, as Steve had never given any implications that he could...but still.

It did not change the fact Steve had responded to the kiss, and even tried to make it last.

Fever-dream or not, Barnes felt doubtful that it would cause Steve to act so out of character, unless there had always been a side like this to him. That honestly raised a slew of other questions; if Steve was okay with the concept, would he be okay with it being him - Bucky - or did Steve require a stranger? Was he able to love Bucky that way, or just James, potentially?

If he would tell Steve the truth now...how would that affect everything?

The man sighs, rubbing his eyes. He had no answers to those questions. The man lets out a huff, and then takes out the bag that carried some his weapons, stuffing the red book in there, not wanting to stare at it right now. After a moment, he calms down enough so that he can start driving again, this time trying to focus on the road and keep his mind blank from any extra things as it clearly did not help him at all right now.

Having a beehive of a mind did really not make the task easy, though.

 

 

 

 

Sam had made some pancakes this morning; they weren't as good as James' but Steve was not going to complain. Last evening, after the awkward conversation and a dreamless sleep, Steve had woken up to Sam making some spicy tomato soup for him. Since the weather outside was apparently cold and rainy, he'd figured it was the perfect food for it. Plus, it was easier to get down in Steve's feverish state.

They had not spoken much about that particular topic, and switched into more casual things, like baseball and Sam's neighbors, or the cats that kept going around the house restlessly, probably looking for their master.

"Are the cats always like this when he leaves?" Steve had asked upon hearing them go around and meow like crazy.

"Only if he leaves on a bad mood, or has people stay behind in his house, like us." Sam had stated simply, eating the soup.

Steve had a feeling James rarely had people babysit his cats, as he did not seem very trusting to people. Now, the two kittens were sitting beside the table, probably waiting for dropped treats about the pancake. Or maybe they just wanted attention, hell if Sam knew. He glances at Steve, who looked a lot better now; last evening the guy had seemed pretty ill, but now he seemed fairly okay, albeit not on the Captain America - levels of okay.

Basically, his fever was down enough for him to feel more comfortable.

"Hey, you've been rubbing your eyes quite a bit, cap, you alright there?"

"Ah...it's the rash on my eyelids and the skin around it. James got this salve he usually puts there to ease it."

"Think you need it now?"

Steve pauses for a moment, piece of pancake halfway in to his mouth. Then, he nods, eating it.

"I think I do; it's probably somewhere in the bathroom. I don't know how it looks like though, as I've never, you know, seen it." Sam goes to find it, and sure enough, there was a pain and rash balsam on the small cabinet above the sink. It was almost empty, indicating that it had been used a lot. Sam almost snorts upon noting that, feeling fairly certain that Barnes had been a bit too excessive in using it out of worry.

"Alright, finish your pancake and I'll check on your rashes."

As Sam examined the damage, he could not stop but whistle; while it did not look as bad anymore - sure, the skin was flaky and red, and some bits still looked almost burned - but the man was fairly sure that whatever caused that must have been painful.

"Can you open your eyes?"

"A little bit; not much as the light hurts my eyes if I keep them open for too long."

Steve tries nevertheless, and Sam felt rather queasy about it; his eyes were red and bloodshot, and his pupils were not black like it should be, but milky gray. Sam knew the answer to his question before he even said it.

"...Can you see anything?"

"You have a head."

"Alright, I guess that's better than expected."

Sam then proceeds with the salve, noting the small frown and a tiny blush on Steve's face as he does so.

"What's up?"

"No, I just...he's much gentler with it - which is...kind of surprising given how violent he is in a fight."

"Are you saying I suck at this?"

Steve's face gains more color.

"No! No, I don't mean it like that. I just..."

"Dude, if you don't want to give him 'wrong signals' then don't get so red about it." Sam's tone was a bit amused, even if he was frowning a bit; the man wasn't sure what to think about this.

Upon hearing his amused voice, Steve goes even redder naturally.

"Relax man; I'm just teasing you." There is a moment of silence, as Sam wraps the bandage back on its place. "There, good as new. Well, as good as you can get with the damage done. There's seriously been no breakthrough on whatever stuff was thrown at you?"

"Not yet no. Though it does seem to be healing on its own; previously, all I could see was shadows."

"I guess that's a plus."

Steve just shrugs at that.

"Let's hope they figure it out fully before Captain America is needed again." Sam sighs after a moment, gaining a slight agreeing nod from Steve.

About two hours later, Sam gets a call from Barnes. He's honestly surprised to see the number blinking on his phone, as the dude was so paranoid he almost never called. Thought he would be tracked with it, and dragged into whatever place Fury had originally rescued him from. It sounded a bit excessive, but Sam did not honestly blame the guy for being overly cautious, based on what he'd heard about his ordeal.

"Hey man, what's up?"

_"I'm heading back right now, how's Steve?"_

"Sleeping on the couch as usual; his fever's down right now, and he looks a lot better than when I came here."

_"Good..."_

the man at the other end sighs. He sounded a bit like he'd been dealing with another anxiety attack earlier, which worried Sam.

".....Hey. You alright? You sound a bit..."

 _"I'm fine; Stop being a bloody mother-hen over me the second my tone shifts tiny bit to a lower frequency or something."_ Barnes grunts at him, though he did not sound mad, just tired.

"Okay okay, geez. I'm your shrink aren't I? It's my job to worry about you."

_"I know Sam; I...appreciate your worry, but it doesn't really do shit to me if you panic as well."_

"I guess that's true." Sam pauses, then glances at Steve.

"Hey....uh...Steve told me about what happened."

 _"...I don't know why it happened. He just...."_ There is a pause, and the man sighs again.

"Well....based on the chat I've had with Steve, and his reactions, I sort of feel like he might have a thing for you too. As in, you you. Not his memory of you."

_"...I can't be sure about that. Even if it was true..."_

James sounded really uneasy, and Sam knew he had to switch topics before the guy had another anxiety attack or something.

"Well, I think you guys should sort this out before things get any more awkward. As in, be honest." There was a deep sigh at the other end, followed by a moment of silence. Sam waited, but did not gain any input or response to his words, so he sighs and rubs his eyes.

"Alright then, just come back as soon as you can, your cats miss you, and I'm pretty sure Nat brought a dead rat or a bird to the cat-room."

The man gives out a small groan, as James had dealt with problems like that before; his cat loved to bring him gifts.

Gifts that he usually threw in the trash.

After a while however, it shifts into a light chuckle.

_"I'll be back in three hours as there ain't too much traffic."_

"Alright; see you later, mate."

James just hums and closes the phone. Sam stands there for a while, then glances at sleeping Steve. The blond cat had jumped up and curled on top of Steve's chest, looking rather content resting there. Nat was at the feet end, playing with a small mouse-shaped cat toy. He rolls his eyes, as the cat drops it to the floor, and seems to be too lazy to go after it.

 

When James finally arrives, Steve was currently taking a shower.

He'd convinced Sam that he did not need any help getting in there - and been strangely flustered about it - so Sam had just dropped him a towel and change of clothes, and then left the Captain to his own devices. The first thing Sam noted was the fact Barnes was highly tense, glancing over his shoulder like he'd expected somebody to follow him. He had his jacket on his arm in a bundle, and Sam could tell there were some reddish stains on it. He was also clutching the back bag he had pretty tightly.

"You alright?"

"Yeah." The man lied, badly.

"Did you get what you needed?"

James nods again, squeezing on the strap of his bag a bit tighter.

"Alright then." Sam pauses, and then grasps James' shoulder, making him look at the African-American male, who was now giving him a serious glare. "You gotta stop hiding, mate; be honest with him before this gets too complex."

"Yeah, later." The man was clearly not listening to Sam at all, he just kept glancing at the windows, his entire frame rigid.

Sam huffs and let go of him. "You need me to stick around? I mean....now that you are back I could go visit some family that lives in New York, but if you still need me..."

"No, you can go if you feel like it. Thanks, Sam."

"...Dude, I get the vibe you aren't listening to me at all."

Finally, Barnes looks at him, and he looked...kind of spooked, to be honest.

"Alright, what gives?" Sam sighs, rubbing his eyes. Without a word, Barnes takes his bag, and shows something red within it - a book?

"This is the thing they used to brainwash me with."

Jesus.

Sam's eyes widen, and he suddenly understood why the man was so tense and distracted.

It's like he's a walking bomb, carrying his own trigger that could go off the second he dropped it or held it the wrong way.

"Why'd you have it?"

"Cause it's safer with me than anybody else right now."

Sam wasn't sure if he agreed, but he wasn't an expert on any of this, so he chose not to say anything. The bathroom door opened, and Steve walked out with a pair of saggy pants and one of James' T-shirts, that was a tiny bit too small for him. Then again, almost everything seemed too small for Steve Rogers nowadays thanks to his bulking super-soldier muscles.

"Hey man; he came back."

"Oh, already?" Steve sounds a bit surprised, but he does smile a bit. James takes his time to assist Steve's condition; he indeed did not look that feverish anymore, and was fairly stable with his steps as he made his way to the couch.

His face was a bit red, but the man wasn't sure if it was because of the warm shower, or something else.

The bandage looked like it had been reapplied at least once.

"So, yeah, I thought of going to visit my relatives in New York now; can stay there overnight."

"Oh no Sam, you don't have to leave." Steve rushes to say sounding a bit uneasy; he probably wasn't sure if he could handle James alone right now.

"Yeah, you can stay overnight; Steve's been hogging the bed lately anyway, and I sleep on the floor so it leaves the couch free." Steve remains quiet, seemingly a bit surprised about James' words.

"Nah man; don't like couches that much, besides yours has cat hair all over it."

"Doubt you are allergic." James points out, but Sam just shakes his head and looks at the man sternly.

"I promised my aunt I'd drop by today." His tone left no room for argument.

These two had to get their facts straight, and Sam was not gonna do it for them.

If James was honest, he… kind of wanted to be left in private right now. Sam was always good to talk to, but it was not what he needed right now. However, Steve clearly felt like he needed a barrier between himself and the brunet right now, probably still trying to make sense of what had happened. On the contrary, Sam himself was clearly trying to press the point that he should just bloody tell Steve who he was already and not make this difficult, but it already was.

So, that left the man with no idea what to do, really. He could not please them both so he just remained quiet.

"Really Sam, it's no trouble." The man glances at Steve, and sighs.

"Look Cap; I get that you'd want me to stick around, but..." he turns to look at Barnes. "You guys seriously need to talk about this, before any further misunderstandings happen." His voice was very stern, as if a parent scolding his children. Both men remain quiet, so Sam goes to get his stuff. After he's ready, the man gives another stern look at Barnes, before turning towards Steve. "See you later man; let's hope you'll get better soon and can start throwing around your shield again; I bet your teammates miss you already."

"Yeah, thanks again for coming, Sam."

Steve comments with a smile, though he was clearly nervous.

 

Once the man leaves, an awkward silence lands to the place; James puts his stuff away, grasping the red book like it was something poisonous, and bringing it to a hiding place; beneath a lose floorboard that also had some of his diary notes and weaponry. The diary had quite a few pictures of Steve, from news-clippings and magazine photographs. He then walks back to the room, noting how stiffly Steve sat an the couch, arms resting on his lap, fingers crossed.

Yeah, they probably should talk, but not yet.

"I hope you didn't use all of the warm water."

"I don't think so."

With that, James slinks to the shower, needing something to calm his rattled nerves a bit. The water was only lukewarm, but he did not mind; at least it wiped away any leftover blood he had on him. Probably needed to wash his clothes from it as well, but he could do that later. His mind kept drifting back to that moment in the woods, when he'd chased after Karpov; it was too similar to what he'd felt like in the past.

What made it more terrifying was the fact he had not felt like that in a while.

Not during those missions with Steve or ones Fury gave him before that.

Yet, somehow, seeing the face of his former controller...it had triggered something involuntary in his mind.

He was honestly glad that Natasha stopped him and the man just offed himself; James was fairly sure, that had he been alone out there, he would've just killed Karpov himself.

He knew that by the end of the day, he would've regretted it. Hell, it would have made facing Steve real hard, and it was already difficult. After a while, he turns the shower off and gets out. His skin was itchy from the place the metal limb attached itself onto his side, like it always was after a shower or a bath, but for once he did not care about it. The man tugs on loose black pants and a white sleeveless shirt.

He was still trying to dry his hair as he steps out from the shower.

Sam had often proposed him to cut it, but James did not feel like doing it; letting a stranger bring something sharp near his throat was not an option, and he could not really cut it himself without making it look dumb.

Besides....part of him did not feel like trying to look like how he used to.

He did not deserve it.

 

Steve was still sitting on the couch, though he'd opened the TV and was now curled up, arms wrapped around him. James took a moment to just examine him quietly, enjoying the bit of nostalgia and fondness it raised within his mind. The news were on, talking about the Shield issue that had been under media coverage and speculation for years now, and other bad things going around the world as usual. Steve was frowning, clearly not happy about the way the news kept speculating about the founders of Shield, but he was unable to not watch it.

James slumps down beside him, still trying to get all the water out from his damn mop.

After a while, Steve shifts a bit, gaining his attention.

"Need help with that?"

It took Barnes a while to realize what Steve was referring to, but after a moment, he hands the towel to Steve, and the blond man reaches out, until he finds the long brown hair. He is very careful while drying it, probably noting the knots here and there. James did not bother combing his hair that often anymore; he was usually too busy or too in his thoughts to care, but right now, he honestly wished they weren't such a mess. Sure, Steve could not see it, but he could feel it. "You need a haircut." James huffs, but says nothing else to that, gaining a small, nervous laugh from Steve. For a moment they just sit there in silence as Steve dries his hair. The TV was still on, running a special podcast about discussion relating to Shield's rumored security crisis, and speculation on Howard Stark and Margaret Carter.

James flinches involuntarily as the Stark name gets mentioned.

Steve pauses for a moment, and sighs. "If Peggy was still here, she'd give them an earful."

"Yeah, she seemed like the kind of woman you did not mess with."

"You met her?" Steve asks, sounding surprised. The man remains quiet for a while, trying to ignore the pleasant tingling in his spine as he felt Steve rub his scalp. It made him want to imagine all sorts of things, most inappropriate.

"....She was...one of the reasons I wasn't just downright killed when Shield captured me - and Natasha."

Steve hums a bit, not sounding too surprised about this link between him and Romanoff; given the fact she'd been the one to introduce them to one another, it probably did not surprise Steve their connection went deeper than that.

"Oh...why did she choose to spare you then? Don't get me wrong, I'm... glad they did, but why?" James releases a slow sigh, and tilts his head back a bit so that Steve did not have to tug on his hair so much.

"......I...reminded her of somebody she used to know. Plus Natasha had my files with her, and they deduced a lot of things about those."

"Oh." Steve clearly had more questions, but he could sense James wasn't up talking about it, so he did not ask anything, just kept trying to get rid of all the moisture in the brown hair.

"You know...I went to see her, short after I came back. She was... happy to see me."

"Can imagine; wasn't Carter your dame?"

He could feel Steve pause, and let out a sad sigh. It made James feel a bit miffed, but he slapped himself mentally; he had no right to really feel like at about it.

"She was...the most magnificent woman I'd ever met. That is saying something given the fact I'm friends with Nat." The blond man lets out a sheepish laugh, not knowing how badly his words hurt. It was petty jealousy, but James couldn't help it.

"When she died early this year...I...felt really alone. I mean, I have my new friends, the Avengers, but...it's not the same."

"I see."

Steve keeps talking, probably not sensing how his companion's mood had turned a bit sour. "I wish things would have been different, so that...I could've been there for her. That Bucky..." Steve turns quiet, and his hands pause, just holding the towel and some of the brown locks.

"I...now I don't really know, though. If things would've been better." This surprises James, and he turns his head and body around a bit to look at Steve.

"What do you mean?"

"That...even if I'd been around, even if Bucky hadn't....Shield would still have been corrupted by Hydra. They could've made me do their bidding without me knowing. That thought honestly...terrifies me." Steve sighs, dropping his hands to his lap alongside the towel.

"But you could've had your dame, perhaps even a couple o' kids." James offers gently, though the words taste a bit bad in his mouth. He wanted Steve to be happy, but it did not mean he'd be hundred percent satisfied with the way it would have been done, personally.

"I know, but it would not have been the same without Bucky around. And if he had been...." Steve swallows down nervously, tilting his head downwards. His hands were a bit shaky.

"Hey, what gives?" The brunet asks, now concerned, upon seeing how Steve was trembling.

"I...I guess I never realized it back then, as it was not something you talked about, but...now I feel that perhaps I....I loved him more than I should have."

James feels his heart skip a beat as he hears that, and he goes dead silent, not moving a muscle.

"And now...when he's not here...I guess that's why it hurt so badly, when he fell. Then again, even brotherhood can be immensely close and a strong bond, but..." Steve releases a shaky sigh, and curls up a bit, arms wrapped around his knees. He seemed...confused with himself, like he wasn't even sure how he felt, exactly.

"....I'm starting to get what Sam means, when he keeps saying I'm stuck in the past. That is bloody annoying." Steve lifts his head, ready to probably retaliate with a snarky comment, but he is silenced by a cold hand covering his mouth gently.

"Lemme finish; I get why you're upset, believe me. But I doubt Carter - or your Bucky - would want you to do this to yourself." And he sure as hell didn't; he was the one supposed to feel guilty, dammit! Not Steve.

"You have a big heart, Rogers. Big, dumb, easily broken one. The worst part is, you love people whole-heartedly, which makes you cling to them, even if they are...just ghosts."

James' tone shakes a bit as he finishes his statement. His words were probably pretty harsh, but Steve needed to hear them. "Carter is dead; she lived a happy, full life and got to see you one last time. That's not too bad."

Steve remains quiet, so James slips the hand away from his mouth, confident that Steve would not interrupt him.

"Bucky...he...made his choice. He knew what could happen, but he took the risk, cause he loved you too."

"You don't know him."

"One's gotta love you hell of a lot to follow a reckless asshole such as yourself to war; let me tell you, you're pretty insane at times based on what I've heard and seen from you."

Steve's ears flushed alongside his cheeks, and he covers a bit.

"I'm not that reckless."

He counters, sounding a bit miffed. "My point is, don't torture yourself over this. So you loved Carter? Fine. You probably loved your pal too, also fine. This is now, and not the forties. You don't...have to feel bad about it."

His tone was probably the most sincere it could get, but...he still wasn't able to say it, what he really wanted to.

What he should.

"I'm...sorry, that you have to tell me that; got probably enough on your own plate." Steve finally replies with a sad sigh, slipping his feet down to the floor as he sat down properly.

"Well maybe you'll finally listen."

Steve lets out a slight chuckle, and then rubs under his eyes a bit; the itchiness was returning, probably because he felt like tearing up. James notices this and sighs, getting the salve again. By the time he gets back, Steve is wiping away tears from his cheeks, trying his hardest to not start downright bawling his eyes out. Damn punk, kept things bottled up inside him way too much.

James removes the bandage slowly, noting that he probably did not have to do this much more anymore, as the skin looked almost healed, aside from some small bits of rash and redness. He wipes some of the leftover tears away, and then, without really thinking, places a kiss on Steve's forehead.

The blond man freezes a bit as he senses that, but doesn't push him away.

James shifts down a bit, kissing both of his eyelids, before tilting their foreheads together. "Seriously. You gotta learn to not blame everything on yourself." The man murmurs at Steve, his breath brushing over his face.

"I know...I'm sorry." Steve mutters out, and did not seem bothered about their closeness. His voice was trembling however, indicating that Steve was still very close to tears.

Cautiously, James brushes his lips over Steve's, just a very chaste touch, but it was enough to make the blond man shiver a bit. Then, he suddenly leans closer to kiss the brunet properly, who feels his mind halt, and he stares at Steve with widened eyes.

"M' sorry...I shouldn't..." the blond man mutters out against his lips, sounding uneasy as his voice was still very shaky.

After a second of hesitation, James is unable to stop himself, so he responds to it, gentler this time though; he tried not to bite this time. He places the metal hand against Steve's cheek, just caressing it with his thumb, until they separate again, while still remaining close to one another. Steve had kept his eyes closed up until now, but this time, he slowly opened them.

James felt his heartbeat fasten, as he waited what would happen next.

Steve's eyes were as blue as he remembered, but the iris was wrong, milky grey. The man just gazes at him for a moment, then sighs, shaking his head.

"Still can't see...nothing but blur of color, or rather, contrast; you got a pretty pale face for that hair color; makes you look like a ghost." The brunet manages to chuckle a bit at that remark, although he felt...almost disappointed.

It would honestly have been easier for him to have Steve just...see his face.

Then he would've been forced to tell him everything.

"I'm sure your doctor friend figures it out." James encourages Steve, who just nods. He still looked shaky and upset, so the man sighs and tugs Steve into a hug, to which he responds without any hesitation. For a moment, they just sit there quiet, with Steve resting his head on the fleshy shoulder, while James pets his hair with his metallic hand, like he'd done before.

Only this time, Steve was not panicking and sobbing uncontrollably.

He was more in control of himself, if melancholic.

They forgot about the whole salve and bandage thing for now, just sitting there in each other's hold.

It honestly helped James too, as he'd been so in the edge ever since he'd gone to this damn mission.

Steve shifts in his arms, bringing his feet up to the couch as well, just cuddling up closer to the man holding him.

He was no longer feverish, which the brunet was happy about. It also made him wonder, though, why Steve was again being very affectionate.

Part of him knew he should question it more, but he did not bloody want to right now; for once in his life ever since he became the Winter Soldier, he felt rather serene just sitting there with Steve in his lap.

After a while, Steve straightened himself a bit, but did not pull away.

Instead, his lips drifted back up to James' ones and the man responded to the soft press gently. As time passed on however, the kiss intensified again, and the brunet found himself hold onto Steve a bit too tightly than what was probably necessary. The blond man did not seem to mind, though, as he just pressed himself closer, bringing his hands up to cup his cheeks, before slipping them around his neck. Had it been anyone else, even Natasha, James would've stiffened instantly. This time however, he just shivers a bit, tilting his head lightly for a better angle.

His lips part as well, and he brushes his tongue over Steve's, making the blond man shiver and gasp a bit; it was clearly a very long time since he'd done anything like this.

Hell, he had probably never been kissed this manner, given the fact how reserved people were back in the thirties and forties.

Well 'reserved,' as in public.

Steve never got past that public state as far as he remembered, not even with Carter.

He wasn't exactly sure when it happened, and why, but pretty soon James noticed that he'd pushed Steve down against the mattress, now kissing him about as intently as the time Steve'd been freaking out. Steve lets out a whimper, but holds onto him, clearly not bothered by the situation; his hand goes up to mingle within the now fairly dry hair, and even tugs on it a little, making the brunet groan a bit, pressing him further against the couch beneath. He brings his metallic arm out and away from under Steve, slipping it behind his head instead. Steve shivers instantly upon feeling the cold touch of the metal fingers brush against the back of his neck, and stiffens a bit, as he remembers what happened last time James had done that.

However, instead of trying to push Steve away, the metallic fingers grasp onto the short hair, tugging on Steve's head a bit, making him whimper involuntarily.

"You should not let me do this." James mutters into his ear, before brushing his lips against Steve's jaw.

The man beneath shivers again, tightening his grip around James. As the brunet brings his face back up to press their foreheads together again, Steve releases a slow breath, licking his lips almost nervously. He clearly wanted to say something, but the words refused to come out. James leans back down, kissing him slowly, his human fingers stroking at Steve's side.

The blond man responds to it almost reflexively, as if he'd lost partial control of himself; he tilts his head up, pressing their mouths firmly together, letting out something akin to a moan, causing a flare of heat to run down James' body, making him shiver as well now. The hand that Steve had previously kept wrapped around James' back slipped away and dropped to the side - startling the female cat that had been resting beside the couch.

The angry, surprised hiss of the orange cat snaps them both out of it, and James quickly backs away to the other end of the couch, his heart racing.

What the hell was he doing?

There was an awkward silence between them, until one of the cats - Punky - climbed to the couch and poked Steve with his paw. The blond man smiles a bit and sits upright, his cheeks flushing.

He holds the kitten in his lap, petting his head.

The kitten purrs and flops onto his belly, gaining a small laugh from Steve as he felt it. James sighs and gets up, grasping the wet towel to bring it back to the bathroom. He remains there for a moment, just leaning his head against the sink's edge. What the hell was he doing? He should not do that, just because Steve did not seem to mind.

It did not make it right!

Especially when...when he hid so much from Steve. He sinks to the floor and just sits there, trying to get his heartbeat back under control. His body felt almost unpleasantly hot and needy, and James could tell he was badly aroused; part of him wondered if Steve had noticed it as well. The man grasps his hair almost desperately, before he hanged his head, leaning it against his knees as he curled up.

Why couldn't he just fucking say it?

What was he even afraid of, honestly? That Steve would hate him for what he'd done? That was not gonna happen, he bloody well knew it.

Rejection?

Nah, if what Steve had just told him hold any water, there was a chance that... and even if he didn't, it should not matter so much anyway.

Maybe....maybe it was the fact he hadn't said anything. It wasn't really what he'd done, but what he hadn't; ironically, James started to think his silence itself, was the reason that kept him silent.

A witch-circle so to say.

The man falls on his back to the cold floor and just gazes at the bathroom ceiling. A cat appears beside him after a moment - it was Nat - and rubs her face against his cheek, probably sensing the distress of her master. Like the real Natasha, the cat had the tendency to come and comfort him, even more so than Punky did. James just remains motionless, gazing at the ceiling.

He began to miss the cold, when he didn't have to care.

He really missed it right now, as strange and disturbing as it sounded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter.   
> I decided I'll leave the bigger fight to the finale, rather than have excessive drama in this one, hence the book-hunt was fairly quick. I got two larger messes coming up anyway so I felt prolonging stuff for this one would be unnecessary.


	7. Calm before the storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve ends up having a more open conversation with his "caretaker" and learns a lot about his backstory.   
> He also begins to realize something else, something that has been right under his nose.

Steve honestly did not know what to think right now.

After a long while, James had finally come back from the bathroom and reapplied the bandage as Steve's eyes still stung, though it wasn't as tight anymore, letting more light through it. He'd completely neglected to put the salve on, though it did not matter that much as Steve's eyes did not itch that bad. He'd then disappeared in the bedroom, like that one time he'd gotten upset over Steve's words.

This time Steve was honestly glad about it, for he was having hard time in understanding his own actions, too.

This tense silence had continued on for few days now; James spent most of his time in the cat-room, or he went out, or remained in his bedroom.

He was avoiding Steve again.

He did still make the man food and checked on his eyes, but not as often, and he no longer applied the salve there. Steve really wished he could have called to Natasha, or anybody really, but he did not know where James kept his phone, and Steve did not have his. It was frustrating as he really needed somebody to talk to right now. He'd hoped that Sam would've come back, but it seemed that the man had gone home after visiting his family.

It was just...something about James felt familiar, and sparked a strange kind of...need in him.

It wasn't really anything Steve had felt before, which confused him.

He did know how falling in love felt - he'd fallen for Peggy Carter - but this was...different.

The same and different to be more exact.

It did not give him the fluttery feeling like he'd had about Peggy, this felt much more...like it stemmed from something deep within him. Something that had always been there. This wasn't about the whole sexuality issue even, as Steve did not really mind it so much; it was the familiarity he felt towards the man. As Steve thought of it, he suddenly began to understand.

James reminded him of Bucky.

The man had similar caring side, as well as tendency to be a bit blunt and almost sassy with his words. He had a Brooklyn accent that he kept hiding from Steve for some reason. Not only that, his voice...it was kind of like Bucky's had been, just more serious and quieter.

In fact, the man felt like a quiet, serious version of Bucky overall.

The feeling he got around James....it was definitely similar to what Steve had felt around Bucky.

Certain kind of mixture of trust, faith and loyalty.

It did not make any sense for him to feel that way, for he barely knew James at all. He did not even know the man's surname, or how he actually looked like. Yet… his voice, some things he did and said...it was eerily reminiscent of Bucky. Perhaps...perhaps that was it.

Because James reminded him of his lost friend, that Steve had grown attached to him, and maybe his vulnerable state had made this more likely to happen.

Not to mention, James had had somebody like Steve in the past according to his own words, hence he responded it the way he did. They both reminded one another of somebody they used to love. Punky lets out a mew as Steve stopped petting him for a long time; the cat was probably wondering what was up between her master and this other human, and Steve honestly wondered it too. The more he thought of it, the more it felt like he was...projecting something trough James. James wasn't Bucky, who would not have reproduced Steve's feelings and stray thoughts, probably at least, but he was similar, and that was probably why Steve's mind was doing it. He wasn't Bucky, but he was enough like him for Steve to...feel familiar.

Perhaps that's why he did not restrain himself so much.

James did not mind.

Bucky probably would have, maybe, but James didn't. But....that wasn't right, because it meant that Steve's affections weren't really towards the man of current times - James - but what Steve wished him to be. The man probably knew it too, hence he'd always pushed Steve away rather suddenly after a certain point. The male cat rubs his face against Steve's arm, probably asking for attention again, so Steve starts petting the cat again.

Punky starts purring instantly, and seemed much more comfortable about Steve's company than his owner was.

Nat was nowhere to be seen, so Steve assumed the cat had gone after her master - she seemed more attached to him than Punky did. Maybe it was because she was a female cat? Then again, Steve did not know much about cats. He really liked them, but never had one due to his allergies. Suddenly, there was a loud crashing noise, and Steve could hear the female cat letting out a startled hiss, before sprinting out from the bedroom, clearly alarmed by something.

The cat runs to Steve for some reason, curling up behind him on the couch.

As Steve feels the cat brush against the arm that was pressing on the couch, he felt the feline shiver, as if it was afraid.

Slowly, Steve places equally startled punky besides her, and the two cats cuddle up together, just gazing at Steve with widened eyes as he slowly makes his way towards the bedroom door. This sounded a lot like what had happened before with the lamp, but also...it felt like James had broken something bigger now. Steve halts in his steps, suddenly unsure if he should do this.

As he heard a small unsure mew from the couch however, Steve steels himself; based on what he'd learned, James would never scare his cats this bad on purpose, so something was up. Besides, Sam had told them to talk this trough, and they clearly hadn't.

Cautiously, Steve pushes the door open, and he instantly senses something big resting on a heap next to it.

As he reaches to touch the thing cautiously, Steve gets splinters in his arm; it was the nightstand.

James had...had swung the entire wooden nightstand against a wall so hard that it had broken into large pieces, and there was a dent in the wall as well.

This was....did he really get this upset over what had happened?

Steve suddenly felt like he should just back away now and let James cool down, when he heard something; quiet sobbing in some corner of the room. Without hesitation, Steve steps further in in the room, using the layout map in his head as well as his hearing to find the man. The small noise came from somewhere near his bed, so Steve tries to reach for it, and eventually feels the canvas of the bed sheets underneath his fingertips. Steve could now hear the quiet, whimpering noises right in front of him on the floor, so he crouches down, reaching cautiously towards the voice.

James did not seem to notice him at first, as he remained still when Steve’s hand reaches his shaking shoulder. His breathing was quick and a bit irregular, and Steve could tell this was probably something similar he'd gone through; a panic attack of sorts. Steve felt a pang of guilt rise within him, but then he shakes his head; it wasn't likely that James would end up doing this just because they had a bit of a moment. It was more likely that whatever mission he'd gone through had triggered this, as the man had been rather tense when he came back. Moreso than usual.

"James? Can you hear me?"

Steve asks softly, but gains no response. Hesitantly, he reaches further to try to get the man to look at him.

That was a bad move.

The next second, the brunet suddenly bounces at him, smacking Steve hard against the floor, basically pinning him against it, and Steve barely has time to move his head aside as a metal fist aims to it, punching through the floor right beside it. It was a terrifying situation honestly, given how weak the captain still felt, and how he could not actually see James, but he could feel the sharp glare on him.

The fist rises again, but then it halts unknowingly to Steve who’d brought his arms up to protect his head.

The hostility turns into a different kind of fear, and he quickly moves away from Steve, pressing his back against the bed.

"Oh god, Steve...." His tone was really, really spooked; Steve doubted he'd ever heard it like this before.

Slowly, he sits up, his head still spinning about the sudden attack. "It's fine; shoulda been more care..."

The man moves towards him again, but this time, he just wraps his arms around Steve, tightly, cursing against his shoulder as he shook. "Goddammit with you, d-don't...don't fucking surprise me like that! Christ!"

Steve feels a little startled, but quickly returns the gesture, holding the sobbing man firmly.

"Shh, its okay, it's fine. I'm sorry for sneaking in. I just got worried."

"For fuck's sake! You could've died, fuckin' moron!"

Steve noted that the accent was back; James was definitely a Brooklyner, though Steve could not know if he was a native or just picked the speech up while living there. Then again...he used old expressions sometimes, similar to how Steve did it.

For a moment, the man just buries his face against Steve's shoulder and neck, clutching him tightly.

He was trembling really bad, probably just trying to calm down. Steve kept petting his hair, whispering soothing words in his ear, like he'd done for Steve earlier. After a moment, James does calm down and slowly - and clearly reluctantly - let’s go of Steve, leaning against the bed.

His head rests against it, tilted upwards, and he releases a slow and a heavy sigh.

"What happened?" Steve asks after a moment.

"I...lost it there for a moment. M'sorry."

"You really startled Nat; she sprinted to hide behind me."

"Jesus, I'm sorry."

"Tell that to her."

Steve offers gently, gaining a small, bitter laugh from the man. They sit there quietly a bit longer, as James tries to gather his thoughts.

"You know...the...personal thing I went to get..."

"That's what's troubling you?."

"Yeah."

The brunet mumbles, rubbing his eyes with a sigh.

"Back then when I...worked for....was forced to work for Hydra..." he was clearly struggling to say those words out, so Steve remained still, letting the man finish at his own pace.

"They had this...book. It had a lot of stuff about me. Medical records, serum info, arm schematics, and....the words."

"The words?"

"The goddamn words they used to brainwash me with; couple of random words, that if stated to me, I'll snap into a murderous psycho instantly and there's nothing I can do!"

James buries his face into his hands and takes another, deep breath, not wanting to go into another anxiety-fit.

"Jesus....and...You have that book now?" Steve asks hesitantly.

"Yeah. I wanna burn that thing, but the thing is, we probably need it if I ever want that psycho out of my head."

"So...what happened just now..."

"I had a flashback."

James' voice turns quiet and tense, and he curls up a bit again, hugging his knees and hanging his head low.

Even without the visual cues, Steve could tell from the man's voice that he was clearly still spooked, though not as badly as earlier.

"They...you know, they kept me on cryostasis between missions. Each time they'd dug me out, they had this...." He chokes a bit, and bites his lip, so bad he draws blood.

Slowly, Steve shifts beside him, to his right side, and lets their shoulders brush together.

It seems to work, as James actually leans against him and his breathing calms down a bit.

"They had this chair, called it 'recalibration' device. The fuckin' thing was an electric chair."

Steve felt his heart drop, and he lets out a shocked noise involuntarily. He had a huge urge to just hug James again, but keeps himself at bay, not wanting to trigger another attack.

"Every time. Every single time they got me out, they'd put me on that thing. You know why?"

"Why?" Steve barely manages to whisper that one word out, feeling absolutely horrified about what James was telling him.

"Cause I could remember; if they didn't, my brain would heal itself, and my memories would return. They wanted a blank asset that could not think for himself. That's how they did it." James' tone was haunted, bitter, but not really angry, at least not as much as Steve felt he should have been.

"They knew that if I would remember, I'd have killed all of 'em, right there and then. All of my handlers were always fuckin' scared of me in reality, cause I was so much stronger than any of 'em."

"That....I don't even know what to say right now." Steve mutters out shakily, and this time, reaches a hand out to just hold it on his shoulder. Without a word, James covers it with his metallic palm, holding it very gently. It was kind of backwards; it was like he was comforting Steve right now, even though he was the one who'd had a seizure.

"It's...okay. I'm...free now, I can do whatever I fucking want, and those guys will get what they deserve. I make sure of that." He still did not sound angry; the resentment in his voice was something deeper than petty emotional anger. It sounded like some sort of conviction, the same way Steve felt about some people he trusted. Of course, his version was of positive manner, but still.

"I...I'm..."

"Don't. Apologize. Rogers. Don't need your pity." The man grunts, but he still doesn't let go of Steve's hand. It was like he was unable to, even if he wanted to do so.

For a moment, they just sat there quiet, and then, they heard a sound of small, barely audible steps walk to them.

Sure enough, two furry figures appear beside them, and the cats cuddle up to their owner's lap as James uncurls himself.

The man then pets both of the cats, even Scratching Punky behind his ear, making the cat purr happily.

"I'm honestly glad you got yourself these two. If this happens often..."

"Nah; these things actually stopped happening like, two years ago."

"Then why did they come back?"

James remains quiet, gazing into thin air momentarily.

The silence mounts between them, and for a moment Steve wonders if the man had slipped back into the darkness of his mind, but eventually a soft voice breaks the silence again.

"Too much stress." James concludes finally with a sigh, looking back down at his cats.

Nat had sat up and was now rubbing her head against James' chin, making him chuckle a bit. "Damn cat; you want attention from me almost as much as your namesake." Steve lifts eyebrow at that. It honestly did not sound like Natasha at all to him.

"Alright....I guess I can fill you in a little bit about our connection. I doubt she'll mind. Or she will, but I don't really give a crap at this point." James huffs out as he notices Steve's lift eyebrow.

It was kind of weird looking when it was not accompanied with the expressive baby blues.

"Some time ago, I was assigned to train the Black Widows - including Natasha. She was...maybe fourteen or fifteen at the time."

"Wait...she was just a kid?"

"A teen, but yeah. Some of her fellow Widow trainees were just kids."

There was a hint of guilt and anger in his tone now. "Combat tactics, how to use different weapons, sniper skills. I taught all that stuff. Mind you, I was pretty scary teacher in their eyes. Others had some sort of emotional reactions if they succeeded or failed. All I did was to tell them to try again if they failed."

James releases a slow sigh, and tilts his head against the bed again.

"They even put those kids...they made them fight me."

That...sounded pretty awful, Steve had to be honest. He could understand the shame and bitterness in his tone perfectly.

"That went well, as you can imagine. Most of 'em winded up with broken bones and intense emotional scarring. Not that they didn't have those already."

"And...Natasha?"

"She...was different, maybe because she was the oldest. She did so good her and my handlers allowed me to give her special, one-on-one training."

James' tone shifts into a gentler one, and Steve could actually hear the smile that spread across his face.

"She held herself together pretty darn well; even in my scrambled up brain, I was pretty impressed. Then...there was this one time when we were on her first mission. Don't remember exactly what the hell it was, but she was supposed to snipe some old man."

Steve remains quiet; he'd always sensed that Natasha had something dark in her past, but he had not known exactly what it had been.

"The guy had his grandkids with him. The poor lil' brats ended up seeing as their grandpops hit the floor with a bullet on his brain. When she came back to the rendezvous point, she broke down."

James releases a slow sigh, and the smile on his face turns more melancholic.

"Fucking didn't realize I was already there. She bawled her eyes out in front of her tutor; a stupid thing to do when you're a Widow."

"What did you do?"

James scratches Punky's ear again, just gazing down at his cats settled in his lap.

"Well...normally in that situation, their handlers would call them out for it. Perhaps even get violent. She sure as hell expected that from me when she realized I was there. Didn't blame her."

"But...you didn't?"

"No, I didn't. Don't know if it was because I was out of ice longer than usual, but some bits of my humanity had returned, so I just...wiped her tears away and told her that she did good."

Steve remains quiet. In the environment James had described, something that gentle probably had meant a lot to a scared, emotionally abused teenager.

"You can imagine, she was just staring at me with those big, green eyes, completely baffled that the Winter Soldier could be nice."

James lets out a small laugh, but it still had a hint of melancholy in it.

"After that...she was sent into more missions with me. It was still for training, and they did wipe me in between."

Steve felt his heart squeeze unpleasantly. He understood what the 'wipe' meant.

"But....I don't know what it was, really. For some reason I could not quite forget her; I always had this vague idea who the red haired kid was, when I came back. I was always kind to her, if just out of reflex; she really appreciated it. To the point she developed a crush on me, apparently."

James lets out a small, bitter chuckle.

Steve wasn't sure on how to react to that part, so instead, he asks about something else.

"Could their systems have been malfunctioning?"

James shrugs with a thoughtful hum, and then nuzzles against Nat's head, as the cat was still rubbing hers against him, purring contently in her owner’s lap.

"Who knows; I like to think it was because they did not put me on ice that much during that period that my brain had more time to heal, so it got faster each time." Steve did not know what to say to that; he wasn't an expert on things like this.

"So, yeah. We did a couple of missions together; with her doing the actual…you know...I just instructed her."

James' tone goes quieter, and Steve squeezes his shoulder again.

"Then, I was put back on ice as they figured she knew enough. Natasha was pretty upset about it. I still recall her expression she made when they dragged me away."

There was softness in his tone, and Steve felt something pang at his heart; if James had really been the only person who'd been...humanly nice to her, it was no wonder she'd be upset about him leaving.

"Well...it turned out it wasn't the last time we'd see each other; about five or six years later, they brought me back to work with her, this time as a CO, and not a tutor."

"Did you..."

James shakes his head.

"Not this time; too much time had passed. But she remembered me; I was real confused about how fucking nice she was towards me, when most were scared or hostile."

"So...what happened?"

"The mission went sour, and Shield captured us. They were supposed to eliminate us both, but this one guy - the arrow guy from your team - commended Natasha's skills and proposed that they should recruit her. She was obviously adamant they'd do the same for me as well; did not get it that well at that point, though I did have a gut feeling there was a reason behind her kindness that had just been wiped from my memory."

"How did they react?"

"Well, naturally they were pretty damn skeptic about it, but you see your girl was around; sure, she was retired and past eighty, but still in a fairly good shape still. Fury had informed her about my captivity as she apparently knew something about me."

Steve lifts eyebrow at that.

"When she saw my face....she told Fury that I was...that I was one of their own, and demanded Fury to not kill me. Never seen an old lady have such a fierce stare, let me tell you."

Steve lets out a small laugh; she could imagine Peggy have that spark even when she was old.

"I of course had no clue what the hell was going on at that point, but...something about Carter felt familiar to me."

Steve’s thoughts grind to a halt as James’ words register in his brain properly.

"Are you saying you knew her at some point?"

James goes quiet, and then flashes a smirk, making sure Steve could hear the amusement in his voice as the blond could not actually see the smile.

"You jealous?" Steve feels his face heat up a bit, and he shakes his head violently. "I was just wondering where you knew her from."

The brunet sighs and remains quiet, indicating he did not want to talk about this.

"Anyway, thanks to her - and apparently some rookie agent who also recognized me from some old newsreels and photographs - I was allowed to live." He pauses, petting his cats and playing with them for a moment.

"It was actually us two that brought the whole Shield corruption to the light; Natasha shared her knowledge with them as a part of the deal, and it turned out she knew a lot of names that were supposed to be Shield members. Also, when my memory started serving me again, I could give 'em some info too."

"That...didn't Hydra ever try to get you two back?"

"They did; I spent my first two years out hiding. Went around the world in fact. You see, I ran away from their captivity, though I think they let me; Fury told me once he showed up at my house in Romania, that he'd kept an eye on me. They'd let me run because they felt Hydra could get their hands on me if I stayed at Shield."

"That must've alarmed you."

"Hell yes it did; Fury then told me that he had a job for me. I'd do some secret tasks for him, and in turn he would make sure Hydra stayed off my back."

"When was this exactly?"

James looks up, clearly counting the years in his head.

"2006 I think; I got out around 2004, when Shield caught me and Nat. I did not come back to USA though, until 2008; Fury needed me to watch after the Stark kid." Steve's eyes widen as he hears that.

"So that’s how Tony knows you."

"Yeah, kind of. I lived in Washington. I was kind of tense about it as that's where potential bits of Hydra were too, given that the Shield headquarters was there, but...I guess I got lucky, or Fury did keep his promise." The man shrugs, then chuckles a bit as Punky licks his face.

"I'm guessing that's when you met Sam."

"Yeah. Fury later assigned him as my shrink ‘cause we get along so well; not that many people can be total jerks to me and not get punched in the face for it."

Steve could not stop but laugh: that sounded like Sam alright.

"I see...that explains a lot of things."

"Why do you think I told you?"

Steve flashes out a sheepish smile, rubbing his head.

Then, it turns softer.

"Thank you for sharing this with me. Really."

The man just shrugs with a noncommittal hum, picking Punky up, and the cat slaps his paw right at his eye, making the man curse out a bit as he lowers the cat down again. "Still...you've been lucky they did not find you, given the fact that Hydra had infiltrated Shield."

"Yeah...well, they kinda kept it so that only those few people who were there at the time knew about my capturing; which meant Barton, Fury, Peggy and that other agent, Coulson I think."

Steve nods a bit; he knew from experience that these people were fairly trustworthy.

"I mean, Stark did find out eventually, as I had to watch after him twice, and later he found all those files on me, when he blew the whole Shield fiasco out in the open by looking through Shield's shit."

"Yeah, he did hack them when Loki was causing havoc."

"Yeah, so I heard. It became even more obvious after the kid came to confront me about his parents."

James' tone goes quiet again, as the guilt seeps back in. Steve understood it completely.

"How did he...?"

"Well...he wasn't as mad as he could've been; he pretty much said _'it's reeeally hard to keep up a hate-boner for somebody when you watch hours and hours of torture-porn that’s too disturbing even for me, and it also makes it hard that you went and kind of saved my ass a few times, so could you please do something to make me fully hate you again?_ "

Steve wasn't sure if he should laugh or be horrified right now; it was like Tony to put it like that, but still...the topic and context made it awful.

"What did you tell him?"

The brunet remains quiet, petting Nat in his thoughts.

"Told him I don't care if he kills me; I'll only feel bad that it's gonna be my fault again, when a Stark falls."

"...how did he respond?"

"Called me a poet, then we had to proceed to kick some ass as I was in the middle of a Hydra compound I was supposed to destroy. In the end he let me leave once we were done, not even trying to find out where I went."

Steve just shakes his head, unsure on what to say to that. They sit there for a while, James cuddling with his cats while leaning against Steve. The blond man processed all the new info he had now. He'd still been fairly generic, but it gave Steve a bigger insight on his situation, and things that had been going on behind the scenes. It was kind of alarming how little he actually knew about the people he worked with.

“So…Stark doesn’t downright hate me, but he’s still kind of processing the whole thing, so I can’t say he likes me either. It’s complicated.”

James comments softly, and then sighs with a sad smile. For a moment they both remain quiet, sitting in the dim room.

"I need a new nightstand." Steve just turns his head towards the man lifting an eyebrow as if he wanted to look baffled - which was hard when his eyes were covered.

Then he starts laughing, unable to stop himself. This whole discussion had made him really tense, so having James comment on something kind of unimportant so casually honestly eased his nerves. Steve just laughs, until his belly hurts, and James watches him the whole time, light smile on his face. The cats also stare at Steve, though they were more confused.

"Sorry...I just..." Steve manages to mutter out after a moment. He was glad having them tear up did not hurt anymore as the laugh had caused some tears seep out from under the bandage.

"I kinda prefer your laugh over the seriousness I keep seeing in the newsreels."

James comments quietly, and Steve feels his face heat up a bit. That's when his mind drifts right back at the actual problem he had right now.

However, given all the info dumped on him now, Steve doubted the man was ready for another serious conversation.

"I think...We should probably clean up the mess, yeah? Maybe get you some tea. It feels you need it more than me right now."

After a moment of silence, James nods a bit, a reflexive gesture as he was aware Steve could not see it.

"Yeah."

 

That night, Steve dreamed again.

This time however, it wasn't really a nightmare.

 

It was Bucky again, but he was not the hostile variant Steve had kept seeing all these years.

He was...himself.

Leaning against the counter of the bar, the same Steve had tried to drown his sorrow on alcohol in.

_"You look like shit." He comments with a much warmer tone, much more like his own voice._

_"Been a long time, Buck; long months, perhaps even years."_

_"You've been out only about four years or so." Bucky points out with a slight laugh, pacing to Steve with his usual relaxed swagger he'd had back in Brooklyn. The man slumps down on the chair in front of Steve._

_"It feels like decades. I feel old. Perhaps the years are really catching up to me."_

_"Well you are past ninety." Bucky chuckles a bit, pouring himself a glass from the wine bottle they had between them._

_It was...bizarre, having Bucky be so...himself, after so many years of dreaming about him being angry with Steve._

_"I just...I feel lonely, I guess. I have my friends, but...I don't know them as well. I.."_

_Bucky gulps down the glass at one go, and puts it back down to the table, looking at Steve._

_"Stop wallowing in the past, Steve. You can't change what happened." His tone was very gentle this time, no malice or bitterness in it._

_"I know, I just...I've been thinking about you a lot, lately." Bucky remains quiet, just gazing at him with a soft look._

_"I..I can't even describe how it felt when you...when you fell. I came here, sobbed for hours, until I just couldn't anymore. Even when Peggy...even when she...I did not cry as much, at least I don't think I did."_

_"Always the sentimental one, aren't you Rogers?" Bucky huffs, pouring him a glass as well._

_"I guess, it's true. I get too attached to people."_

_"Maybe, but on the other hand, it's not a bad thing to care."_

_Steve sighs, and drinks some of the wine. He could not really taste anything, probably because it was a dream._

_He then noticed that Bucky was examining him quietly this whole time._

_It made Steve feel uneasy, and he looks up at his companion with questioning look._

_"Stevie...you should not waste your tears on me. I'm not worth that much."_

_"Don't bullshit me, Barnes! You were...you're one of the biggest reasons I ever even got a chance to....do all those things, to try and protect people with my own strength."_

_"They chose you to take on the shield because of YOU and your heart, Rogers. Not because I told them to."_

_"But you kept me alive long enough for them to find me."_

_Bucky remains quiet, drinking his drink again. His face had a bit of a stubble in it, and his hair was disheveled; he kind of reminded Steve how he looked when he'd first found him from Zola's lab. Only difference was that he was wearing the blue coat he usually had on missions._

_"Bucky...I...I guess it's pointless at this point, but I need to tell you something." Steve felt his voice crack, and tears wanted to flow down again._

_Slowly, Bucky lifts his gaze from the glass, not moving his head._

_"Steve...I know. I think we both knew, in some level."_

_"Still...I never..."_

_Bucky drinks again, and suddenly Steve realizes that he had never re-filled his glass, despite drinking it down the first go. Dreams and their peculiarities._

_"Steve. You don't have to tell me that. I'm just a ghost from the past; tell him that."_

_"Who?"_

_The brunet shakes his head with a small smile, and then looks Steve right in the eyes._

_"Him. Steve, come on; you know the answer; you're a stubborn punk, but you ain't dumb."_

_The blond man shakes his head confused; what was Bucky talking about? The brunet leans closer, and grasps Steve's hand that was resting on the table with his._

_" I'm not dead, punk. You know it." _

_Bucky pauses giving him a pointed look._

_"The man you call James... It's me."_

_Steve blinks, and then suddenly realizes that the hand holding his was metal._

_Steve looks up, and the person sitting across from him was no longer Bucky, it was James. Except that...it was still Bucky._

_His mask was off, and Steve could now see the face behind it._

_It was most definitely Bucky._

_He still looks at Steve with that pointed glare, squeezing his hand a bit._

_"I ain't gonna spill my beans, Rogers; you gotta do it."_

_Suddenly, a strong wind blows through the building, and Steve is swept away into a snowy cold; last thing he sees is Bucky standing in the bar, watching after him with an unreadable gaze._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, literally calm before the storm; a quiet chapter before action kicks in. Steve learns the rough outline of how "James" ended up working for Fury.   
> Also, I've had some people wonder how Steve doesn't realize it's Bucky.  
> He's basically being willfully blind, because the facts HE knows at the moment are that Bucky is dead, gone, so there's no way the guy could be Bucky. It just makes more sense for him to assume that this guy just reminds Bucky, but isn't him.   
> But don't worry, he'll figure this out soon. In the next chapter in fact ;)   
> The Last two chapters will also be the ones with action


	8. Fire on your heels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit starts to go down.  
> Tony gets a first-hand taste on how terrifying Winter Soldier can be, but also manages to save the situation  
> Also, Steve finally finds out the truth.

Bucky had not been able to sleep.

He'd paced around, cuddled with his cats, made some tea, but nothing helped.

While telling Steve a bit more about his story had lifted some weight off his chest, he'd still not told Steve the fundamental thing he should.

Plus...knowing the book was in there, beneath the floorboards of his apartment, it made him be on the edge constantly.

It was like knowing there's a ticking time bomb beneath your feet.

He glanced at Steve.

After they'd had the chat and Steve'd made them some tea, and eventually fallen asleep to the couch, as it had been getting late. He did not have the bandage on as they had never bothered to put it back. James had covered him with a blanket, and now Punky had jumped to the couch and snuggled beside Steve. Seriously, James was fairly sure the cat had already adopted Steve as one of them.

He just stood there in nightly silence, when suddenly, his communicator beeped.

He checked the message on it with a frown; he had not expected Fury to summon him again. One James reads the name typed after the message however, he realizes this was something else now.

“What the hell…”

The man leans against the table, staring at the text. It was not from Fury.

It was from Stark.

A small part of him panicked; sure, it was pretty clear at this point Tony was not really plotting his murder anymore, but he could not stop but be suspicious. Not to mention, how the hell did Tony get this number? If he’d found it through hacking something, then that would mean that whatever messed with his systems would perhaps find him too… But there had to be a reason why Stark contacted him like this.

It could not be about Steve’s condition, as it would have been more likely for them to tell him to bring Steve back.

Hell, most likely Fury would have informed him and not Stark. It could be a trap, but then….using Tony’s name would not make any sense whatsoever, as officially nobody knew there was any connection between them.

The brunet rubs his head, not knowing what to do. He wanted to go, but if it was a trap or a way to lure him away…

Suddenly the thing beeps again, and there’s another message.

**I’M NOT PLANNING TO KILL YOU I SWEAR ROBOCOP, BUT WE GOTTA TALK**

James cannot stop but let out a snort as he sees that.

Only Tony Stark would send a message like that specifically to him, so it had to be from Tony.

He glances towards the couch Steve slept on; given that nothing had happened when he’d left last time, perhaps it would be fine. Honestly, for as long as he’d been there, his home had never been broken into by anyone, not a Hydra member, not a Shield agent, or even an average thief. Based on his past experience it should be safe.

Still… James glances at the message again, then at the sleeping man.

Finally, he sighs and decides that he wants to know what this was about.

As he pulls on his jacket - most of the blood was gone, but some stains still persisted despite multiple times of washing it - the man hesitates for another moment, and then takes a gun and a few knives with him as he usually did when he left out like this.

“I’ll be back soon, I promise.” He whispers into the darkness, addressing both his cats and his Stevie.

 

 

The place was rather unsurprising given Stark’s reputation; a small midnight club just few blocks away from the Avengers tower.

"You took your sweet time for a guy as swift as you, Robocop.” Tony states casually, as he sits down to the chair opposite of the billionaire. Stark was wearing more casual clothes than usual, hoodie and jeans, clearly trying to be incognito.

Somehow it actually worked, as nobody seemed to pay any attention to them. Or maybe it was just that people were too preoccupied in having fun, drinking and dancing, and whatever they were doing there that time.

"What do you want, how did you get my number?"

James demands, not really intending to come off menacing or angry, but he clearly did given how Tony backed away slightly.

"I may have done a liiittle bit of tinkering regarding to Fury's stuff, and found your call-card." Tony faked an innocent face, which failed miserably.

"For fuck's sake, somebody could track me down because of you- and that will endanger Steve as well!" James hisses at him, but keeps his volume at minimum, glancing around suspicious.

"Geez calm down; I made sure that even if the message was tracked, they could only tell I sent it, not where."

"Got a lot of trust for your tech, Stark, after Steve was nearly gassed to death alongside rest of your crew." James blurts out before he can stop himself; he really did not intend to bring that up. That clearly stung, but Tony somehow managed to push it aside for now, turning more serious.

"I reached out for you, cause I actually need your help - shocking, I know."

"Ask your crewmates."

"Can't; Steve is still hidden inside your secret bat cave – and as much as you probably don’t believe me I really did not try to find it - Thor is in Asgard and we haven't heard a beep or a rumble from him, and both Barton and Natasha left somewhere, maybe doing another Budapest gig. Bruce's not up for this task."

"Rhodes?"

"Rhodey is busy with military stuff."

James sighs, rubbing his eyes.

"Trust me, I'd much rather ask ANYBODY else, but I really got no choices here; given how my tech was compromised, I need somebody to cover my back just in case." Tony pauses, and glances aside. "Besides, this might relate to what the hell happened to my tower - and therefore Steve - so I figured I'd have to tell you anyway."

Alright, that got his attention.

"What is it?"

Tony shifts back a bit; probably slightly intimidated by his 'mission face' James knew he was having right now. He could not help it, really; it appeared each time he sensed he was heading out to do something. Tony brings up his watch - which of course turns out to not be a watch but a small hologram projector and a computer. It showcased some random numbers and coding James did not understand.

"I managed to track down where the hacking had come from; apparently it's some old military place in New Jersey. Ever been there?"

James shudders at first - why the hell he would ever go to Jersey - but then he recalls something.

"Steve was trained there, before he was buffed up to Captain America size." Tony frowns at that. "Interesting. Anyway, I was going to go and check the place out, but...because my tech is still having problems and bugs in it for some reason - weeding all of them out has taken surprisingly long - I figured I'd rather not go alone in case things go sour and my suit fails me."

"That must be a hard feeling; being unable to trust your own things." He'd meant it sincerely as he knew how that was like, but Tony gives him a miffed look.

He was probably still a bit upset about the earlier jab James had involuntarily spilled out.

Or it was his general mixed feelings towards the brunet, who the hell knew.

"So, after exhausting all of my options, I realized the only choice left that I could consider was you."

"I'm pretty sure Rhodes would have dropped whatever he was doing once he got a wisp of intel that you probably were gonna do something stupid." That actually punches out a small laugh from Tony, which surprised them both.

"That...might be true, but really. This stuff relates to Steve, and since you two are such butt-buddies, I figured I might as well let you help me."

James just gazes at him silently for a moment, then sighs and nods. "You gonna fly us there with the jet?" "Nah; I think we must take a more traditional route - by that I mean I go ahead with my suit and hope it won't glitch on me while I go there, and you follow suit with your slow bike, cause I'm not carrying you and that heavy ass chunk o' metal attached to you."

"Says a dude with a piece of metal on his chest."

Tony pauses, and then smirks a bit.

"I'm almost starting to like you, Barnes. Almost."

 

 

 

They did not have much contact with one another during the journey, which was honestly good given how tense and non-chatty James was right now.

He’d stopped on the way once the sun raised, sending Sam a message to go and see Steve ASAP just in case something happened.

He wasn’t entirely sure that Sam would still be in New York, but he had said he’d been on a family visit or something so chances for that were about fifty-fifty.

_“Had to go deal some business, go check on Steve if you can, please.”_

The brunet knew that Sam would probably do it regardless if he was busy that day or not, let alone if he was in New York or Washington, given he’d get worried for sure. He felt bad for putting Sam in such difficult position, but he felt he had no choice. The man had no clue how long this task would take, but Barnes knew that he would not make it back before Steve woke up, that was for sure.

For his surprise, he’d gotten an answer back the second he’d been about to re-start his bike.

_“Jesus man, your boss needs to stop pulling you away for random crap; does he even remember that Steve is there with you? Thank your luck I was still at my aunt’s in New York.”_

James hums with a slight smile, but doesn’t reply.

Tony had gone on ahead and was waiting for Barnes at the gate of the abandoned army-base, in his full get-up. It was yet another model of his suits; James had no clue which one and did not care. He parks the bike at the forest edge, and walks to Tony.

"You armed? I mean, you are always armed, you got an arm of a weapon, but..."

"Cut out the puns Tony; my shrink makes them up enough." James grunts at him, and he could imagine the brat was smirking under the helmet.

He wasn't too mad though; he had this filter in his brain that made him unable to be pissing furious at Stark. It was probably because of his guilt. Besides…. the fact Tony was able to joke with him was probably a good sign. it was a good thing Stark was able to act mostly normal around him.

"Got three knives, a handgun, and a paralyzing zapper. Can't really drive around looking like a weapon-themed Christmas tree you know - not anymore anyway."

"More like a goth-themed Christmas tree with weapons, given all the black you wear."

James rolls his eyes, and then proceeds to yank the gate open.

Sure, Tony could have done it himself, but the man was probably avoiding using his blasters to not attract attention.

They search around the place, and Tony actually has the decency to pull back his helmet so that James could see his face.

"Doesn't look like much; it’s hard to imagine that the hacker would have come from here. There's no working tech."

James remains quiet for a moment and looks around.

A pang of nostalgia hits him; while he wasn't trained here specifically - at least he thinks he wasn't - the place did remind him of those army days.

As he scans the surroundings, he realizes that something bothered his eye.

He could hear Tony curse a bit further away.

"My scanners still aren't working fully; that damn hacker left some bug in the system Jarvis hasn't located yet."

"You might not need it." James states, as he suddenly realizes what was bothering him.

The billionaire turns to look at him confused.

"Look at that; the bunker's way too close to the barracks."

"And?"

"It's against the rules to store ammunition this close to the living quarters."

James rushes to the bunker, noting that there was a giant lock on it. Swiftly, he breaks it by crushing it with his metal arm.

"Gotta say; that arm packs a punch. I mean, I could have done that as easily, but still."

James says nothing to that; he did not really want to think about how 'useful' his arm was, especially around Tony, given what it had been used for years ago. As they descend into the bunker, it becomes clear the place wasn't just storage. It was an office, and there was a familiar symbol on the wall. "This place is a Shield office?" Tony questions, sounding clearly surprised.

"Probably where it started from."

James comments simply, as he looks around the place warily; he did not like going underground like this, it brought back too many awful memories. He suddenly noticed that Tony had walked to a wall and was now looking at something.

James walks beside him, and then realized what had the man so shaken; there was a picture of his dad on the wall, alongside Peggy and some military dude James could barely remember.

He says nothing, just lets Tony have his moment and enters further into the shelf-covered hallway. It was a bit of a risk to turn his back to Tony at that moment, but sure enough, the Stark kid eventually just walks to him, checking trough the shelves like he was. Once again Barnes had to remind himself, that if Stark really wanted to kill him, he probably would have done it two years ago, when he found out.

"See anything?" Tony asks after a moment. His voice was a bit tense, indicating that he was holding back something a bit.

James did not blame him.

Suddenly, he feels something, a draft from behind one of the shelves.

"Think I got something." He tugs on the shelf, and sure enough, it starts to move, revealing a hidden elevator.

"Ookay. Why'd you hide that if the whole place is supposed to be a secret in the first place? Weird logic."

James had to agree.

They walk to the elevator, and Tony works for a while, until he gets it to open its doors.

"Wanna go first, or?"

"I don't like going underground." James states bluntly, not even trying to hide his disdain.

Nevertheless, he steps in the elevator after Tony.

A tense silence settles between them as they head down. James was unable to prevent the way his metallic arm was twitching, as he kept clenching and unclenching his fist over and over. Tony notices that, and gives him a questioning look.

"It's a reflex; sort of like flipping a knife or cleaning my weapons. Can't help it."

"…Alrighty."

After what felt like hours, the elevator stops and reveals a wide open, darkened room ahead of them.

Tony turns on some sort of light from his suit as they step in. After a few seconds however, the light turns on, indicating that there was either a motion sensor or somebody was watching them.

"Holy shit." Tony exclaims as he sees what the room had in it; it seemed like some sort of ancient, gignatic computer, stretching on each direction as far as eye could see. The processors were gigantic, and there was a main control-panel with three screens and a camera.

"How this is even....there's no way the hacker used this ancient stuff to break past Jarvis, no way!" Tony looks around baffled, and then notices something; there was a modern plug-in attached to the enormous system. Almost if somebody had been there recently.

"What the..."

Suddenly, the quiet machine hums to life, and they both look around startled, with Bucky pulling out his gun just in case.

Were they being watched from somewhere?

The camera on the computer starts to move, and suddenly, a heavily accented, synthetic voice breaks the silence.

Barnes felt his blood run cold.

**_"Anthony Edward Stark, born in May 29, 1970."_ **

The camera moves towards James, who points his gun at it, feeling his hair stand to an end; despite the synthetic tone, he knew that voice.

_**"James Buchanan Barnes, born in March 10, 1917."** _

There was a pause, and the voice chuckles.

**_"I must say, I did not expect to witness my own creation ever again. But alas, I am quite overjoyed."_ **

"What the heck is he talking about? In fact, who the hell are you, and..."

"You're fucking dead. How the hell are you....where are you, you Hydra bastard?!"

James cuts Tony off, his voice filled with unbridled anger, and he was finding it hard to not just shoot the camera.

Tony seemed taken aback by James' intensity, not fully understanding what was going on.

**_"Why, I am right here."_ **

Suddenly, the screen activates, showing a greenish black image of a face.

"Barnes?"

James just shifts his gun to point at the monitor, his entire form trembling with anger, and some form of primal fear.

"Zola was the scientist who made me."

Tony looks at him confused.

"He's the one who started the Winter Soldier project! He is the reason why your parents...why they died." He barely managed to get those words out of his mouth, and his voice did come out as a form of a growl.

Tony's eyes widen, and he stares at the computer in front of them in light shock.

"But didn't that guy die?"

_**"Why yes; my human body passed away long time ago. My mind however, was worth saving; you are in fact, standing inside my brain."** _

"Yeah, no thanks, don't like the idea of seeing the insides of somebody, especially not if what Barnes is saying is true." Tony comments; he was now looking around a bit spooked.

He also glances at James, contemplating now if this was a good idea, as the man seemed something between a spooked animal and an extremely murderous psycho.

"You were the one who hacked Stark?" James manages to ask, forcing his heart rate to calm down.

_**"Quite frankly, yes. It was just a little experiment, a little bit of fun."** _

"You tried to murder Cap, I think that's a little extreme for fun." Tony points out, gaining a chuckle from the computer-Zola.

_**"Yes, it would have been quite useful for us to take the Captain down with the bio agent I developed. Unfortunately, my own creation got in the way."** _

"Shut up, I ain't your lab-rat anymore!" James barks at Zola, using all his mental capacity to not just shoot the whole system full of holes.

_**"I wonder. You see, I did not summon you here just for the fun of it."** _

"Wait, hold on, summon? I'm pretty sure I just tracked you down myself." Tony protests instantly, and predictably.

It was a little concerning for James, seeing how easily this weird sci-fi fiction version of Zola was getting under his skin.

**_"Details do not matter; this is perfect setting for a little experiment of mine."_ **

Suddenly, the door behind them slides close, trapping them within the room. James felt his entire body stiffen; he had a very bad feeling about this.

_**"You claim not to be my creation anymore; let's test that, shall we?"** _

Tony looks at James confused, who suddenly fires at the system, shattering all three monitors and the camera.

His breathing was quick and irregular, and panic was rising in his throat.

"Barnes, what gives?"

"Tony! Use your goddamn blasters and get out of here!"

The billionaire clearly had hard time understanding his panic.

_**"How charming; I'm afraid I am still very much functional, Sergeant Barnes."** _

Zola's tone was full of malice, as he said the next words.

_**"Let's play a little game, shall we?"** _

"Tony!" James spats at him, and then his body goes rigid, as the first words ring in the air.

He grasps his head, trying not to hear them, but it was futile; the entire room was made of hard surfaces, so it amplified the sound, making it echo all around him. Tony looks around, also trying to find the source of the voice that was making his companion freak out for some reason. He tries to fire his blasters to get out of there as Barnes told him, to, but they refuse to function; Jarvis informs him that there was another bug in the system that kept re-writing itself hence it was hard to remove, such a perfect timing.

"Shit! What the hell is going on?"

Suddenly, entire place goes quiet.

Tony turns to look at his companion, only to find that he was glaring at Tony with a blank look.

"Barnes?"

Tony's voice was a little shaky; the guy always had an intense murder stare, but this was beyond what Tony had ever seen.

It was like all life and emotion had been drained out of him, replaced by an ice-block for a brain.

Zola's voice breaks the silence one last time, with a very simple order.

_**"Eliminate him, Soldier."** _

James raised his gun, and fired at Tony, who quickly pulled up his helmet not to have bullet put into his brain.

A second later, the man charges at him, smacking him hard with his metal fist, making Tony stumble against the nearest processors, crashing through them.

"Holy shit! Jarvis, what's going on?!"

Tony asks, then quickly moves aside as the man jumps at him, aiming another punch right at Tony's chest.

It cracks the floor beneath, a full blown concrete floor.

Had that landed, Tony was fairly sure he would have died, or at least gotten seriously injured as his chest happened to have this handy hole in it with a magnet, that kept his heart beating.

Barnes knew of this weakness; he was aiming for it.

 _"It seems that....this is quite unusual, his brainwave pattern is completely different now."_ Jarvis pipes in briefly.

Tony quickly grasps a processor, and with the strength of his suit, hurls it at the man, who dodges it with ease.

He then charges forward, and Tony brings up his hand to fire a blaster - only remembering the second the man grasps it with his metal fist that they did not really work right now.

Didn't seem to matter though as he actually crushes the entire glove with his inhuman strength, having pieces of the armor fall to the floor.

James then kicks him back several feet with a noise akin to a huffing growl escaping from his mouth; Tony crashes against another processor, and the impact knocks the air out of his lungs momentarily.

"I'm starting to think I might be in trouble."

_"Very good observation, sir."_

Tony quickly moves aside, flying further away; at least the jets on his feet still worked.

Or they did, until James grabs him by the feet, and smashes one of the jets into pieces, before throwing him against a wall.

"Shit! If my suit would have full power..."

_"I've been working on trying to fix the issue, but I do not know if we'll have enough time. Mr. Barnes seems very adamant at trying to kill you."_

"Yeah; it's almost if it's personal."

Tony dodges another attack, but is forced to stumble to the floor as just one jet wasn't quite enough to keep him on the air right now; his suit was losing power and fast, another bug Zola had placed in his systems.

Perhaps the fact they were literally inside the madman’s mechanical brain also influenced the way his problems had intensified.

"Shit shit shit shit! Tony, think!" The billionaire looks around, trying to find some way to escape, or knock Barnes back into his senses.

Jarvis starts to say something, but his voice is abruptly cut off; suddenly all Tony could hear was static, and the holograms that would normally be in front of his eyes were glitching like crazy.

This was beyond bad now.

Suddenly, something big is hurled at him, and Tony gets flown backwards, crashing with a wall.

The fucker had thrown one of the broken pieces of a processor at him, and he was now almost buried into the wall.

The faceplate of his armor had come off and dropped to the floor with a loud clang.

How the hell did this guy have so much strength?

Tony could feel his blood thunder in his ears, and a familiar tightness settled around his chest; he was slowly succumbing to panic; his best weapon that would normally protect him was malfunctioning badly. Tony did not have much time to think anyway, as James suddenly appeared above him, instantly tearing at the energy reactor in his chest. Tony tries to move, but the impact accompanied with Zola’s viruses had seriously messed up the system which made the suit stiffen, so he was basically paralyzed; his suit was kind of like a human-shaped cocoon right now, trapping him inside.

That's when Tony realized, that he could quite possibly die.

The only good thing he could think of was the fact that the one attacking him clearly wasn't Barnes; the body belonged to the man, but there was no way in hell that intense yet empty gaze belonged to the man who’d snapped at him earlier out of genuine worry for Steve, let alone the man who’d yelled at him to get out just moments ago in pure fear.

Fear towards this very thing that was trying to kill Tony right now.

Sure, he'd read about the brainwashing and all, but seeing it first-hand....no wonder he'd told Tony to escape so hard.

His eyes were really cold, there was zero emotion in them, and Tony was sure as HELL the Barnes he knew wasn't actually like this.

Sure, he'd known it in theory, but now that he saw it...

"Come on man; fight it! You don't have to do what that guy says anymore!"

A hand grasps his throat, and the metal fist hovers in the air, clearly aiming to shut him up permanently.

However, Barnes did not move; he was hesitating.

Tony took his chance; perhaps he could get through to him after all.

"Yeah, you hear me right? Don’t let that hard-drive weirdo tell you what to do; you were clean for ten years, you can do plenty more decades, old man!”

Barnes' face shifts a bit, and he was clearly struggling against the programming, somewhere deep inside his brain. It was such an intense relief to see that, but it did not quite lessen Tony’s panic; it was such a struggle just to keep his voice even and not squeak pitifully right now.

"Come on; you don't wanna do this, you ain't this. You want to get these bastards, get them for what they did to you, Steve, and all the other people you cared for."

Tony felt his entire body shaking; he was honestly scared for his life, and for a brief bitter moment, wondered if that’s how his parents had felt like moments before death.

"Come on, you can do it!"

The fist moves.

Tony lets out a rather embarrassing scared yelp and closes his eyes, but the fist strikes the floor and wall next to his head.

Barnes sucks in a deep breath and backs away from Tony, grasping his head.

Tony takes his chance to try and get up; for his annoyance, due to his suit shutting down thanks to his arc reactor being damaged, he was unable to do much anything.

He couldn't even deactivate it to get out, though Tony wasn't sure that would be a smart idea.

He could hear James' struggle, the way he cursed in foreign language and collapsed to the floor, breathing heavily.

Then, he suddenly gets up and for a moment Tony thinks the man is going to attack him again. Instead, the brunet suddenly whips around and smashes the control panel beneath the wrecked monitors into pieces as well.

It seemed to be a reaction based on emotional turmoil rather than some sort of plan.

After a moment of the brunet standing there tense, his breath heaving and his eyes burning so intensely Tony wouldn’t have been surprised if the wrecked system started melting, his voice returns.

It's shaky, but he sounds like himself again.

"I...told you...ain't your...lab-rat anymore!" He snarls at the shapeless voice, still breathing heavily.

Suddenly, Tony’s systems whirl back online properly, and Jarvis’ voice breaks the silence inside Tony’s suit.

It was such timing that Tony wondered if wrecking the main control panel wrecked Zola enough to destroy his bugs.

_"Sir, I believe there is a missile heading towards us."_

"Say what now?!"

Upon hearing Tony's voice, James turns towards him cautiously.

The billionaire naturally feels his heartbeat fasten, and he lets out a tiny 'eep' sound, as Barnes paces to the man and tugs him off the floor, though this time only to help him up. For Tony's relief, his hard yank actually helps in further reactivating some of the basic functions in the suit, loosening it so that he could move again. Apparently not all the damage was caused by software viruses.

"Shit, Tony; I told you to fucking run!" The man's voice was high-pitched, indicating Tony wasn't the only one in the verge of panic. 

"Did not have time, and my blasters don't work!"

For a second they just stare at each other, and Tony suddenly realized James was even more terrified than he was.

For a second, there, it was very likely he would've killed another Stark.

_"Sir, there's only thirty seconds left before the missile hits."_

"What do we do?" James asks from Tony, looking at him as if expecting the billionaire had a magical solution to their dire situation.

Usually he would have, but because his suit was badly damaged, there wasn't much they could do.

Plus, he doubted Barnes could yank the doors open in time with his arm.

The billionaire looks around the room frantic, and then notices the griding on the floor; there was a fairly deep space beneath it, and he might have one thing that works.

"Think you can rip that thing off?"

James doesn't even question what he was up to; they had no time. He just swiftly pulls the grid aside, and Tony jumps down, gesturing him to follow.

The man hesitated only a second and jumped beside Tony, who brought something up and above them just as the building explodes with deafening noise.

 

 

 

When the dust settles, they both are covered in it, and Tony's ears are ringing.

Barnes coughs beside him, and then looks at Tony for a moment.

At first, he doesn't get why the hell the man was staring at him, but then the billionaire quickly realizes it was because of the shield he was holding.

To be exact, it was an energy field in the shape of Cap's starry Frisbee.

"It belonged to an agent - a guy named Coulson - he wanted a shield like his idol. I uh...decided to borrow it as he died. I mean, I made it after all, I mean…" Why was he trying to explain this so hard?

"Thanks." Barnes sighs simply, shaking some off the dust off from him.

"You owe me a new pair of pants by the way; scared the shit out of me with that brainwash mumbo-jumbo."

Tony tries to keep his tone light-hearted, but he honestly did not feel like joking right now.

His legs were still shaky, and he felt dizzy, still ready to curl to the floor and cry. His face was probably completely white. Without a word, Barnes pushes some of the building pieces aside to get them out of there. The billionaire notes that he flinched a bit, as if he was injured somehow, but kept hiding it. Tony turns off the shield thing and looks around at the carnage; there was a good two or three meter deep crater to where the bunker was supposed to be.

"Shit; who the hell did this?"

"Hydra; they probably had something warn them that somebody unauthorized was messing with Zola. Which means they might come here to check the result soon."

Tony glances at Barnes with lift eyebrow.

He was keeping some distance between them right now, still subconsciously afraid that the man would randomly snap back into the murder-mentality.

"Where could they have gotten their hands on a freaking missile?"

 _"Sir, I believe the attack came from the Shield Headquarters."_ Jarvis interrupts their conversation, and Tony's eyes widen.

"What? Even the HQ was compromised? Is Fury one of them too?"

James feels an unpleasant chill travel down his spine, but he swallowed it down.

"No...I have a feeling something has gone sour there..."

Tony looks at Barnes with widened eyes.

If that was true...neither of them liked the implications of that at all.

Suddenly, James hears a familiar beep.

There was a message on his pager.

Cautiously, the man takes it out, and even Tony comes to check on it, though from the way he was shifting uneasily and glancing at Barnes at times indicated he was still bloody freaked out.

**SHIELD COMPROMISED GET STEVE NOW SOLDIER**

There was also coordinates to a place.

"Does that sound like Fury?"

"It...Does, actually."

This really did not look good.

Suddenly, they heard something heading towards the place.

A plane perhaps?

Without further ado, the two rush into the forest, hiding from whoever was coming to check the place out.

"So what're we gonna do now? My suit's pretty trashed; Jarvis can't contact any of my stuff back at the tower because of the damage." James glances at him looking a bit guilty, but he remains quiet, glancing around.

So far, they weren't being followed, but you never knew.

"We have to get back, and get Steve."

"How? Your bike was destroyed and I can’t fly us there. Are we just gonna hitch a ride from a stranger. That would be quite a sight I admit; Tony Stark, the world's richest hitchhiker."

Tony tries to joke, but his voice was super shaky, and he has to lean against a tree, feeling that his legs would give out soon if he didn’t.

James takes out his pager.

He could send a message to his own phone he knew was at home, but it wasn't likely Steve could read it, and he had no way of calling it.

Then, he recalls what he’d done earlier, on the way there.

So, he takes out his pager and types something; the man was praying in his head that nothing had happened back home.

Then again, if something had, he had a feeling Sam would have sent him a message already.

"What are you doing?"

"Sending a message to one person than can probably help, but we gotta move further away, to a safer spot."

"I think I saw an old warehouse few miles back; let's go there for now: we can hide there better than out in the open in the forest."

"Alright." Tony states, but as he tries to get up, his legs do betray him, and the man collapses to the ground, his head was spinning really badly.

Perhaps it wasn’t just his fear; he probably suffered from a concussion or some other issues caused by the brawl. His vision was turning blurry too, now.

A shadow suddenly loomed over him, and Tony yelps, backing away reflexively. Barnes pauses, holding his hands up clearly trying to appear as non-threatening as possible. It was kind of hard with that bitching metal arm and scowl, but at least he was trying.

“We need to go, Tony; they will start checking the surrounding area too. If you can’t walk, you gotta let me carry you.”

James’ tone was almost gentle, like he was talking to a scared animal, and yeah, Tony felt like one right now.

“Just…give me a second.” The millionaire mutters, taking in a deep breath.

He manages to stand up, but in the end has to lean to Barnes for support, as his legs were shaky.

 

 

 

When Steve had woken up the next morning, probably around seven or so, James was gone for his surprise.

There was no explanation, no note or anything.

He'd just taken some of his things and left somewhere with his bike. It was a little strange, but Steve figured he just needed to clear his head a bit after sharing such a story with Steve. Plus...well, he was honestly a bit happy to have space for him right now. The dream he'd had....Steve did not really understand it.

With a sigh, the man gets up, and paces to the bedroom; they had cleaned up the mess James had made earlier on, but there was still a dent in the wall, and some loose pieces of wood on the floor.

As Steve looks around in the dim living room, he suddenly realizes something.

His...his vision was fairly clear.

Sure, it was blurry in the edges and Steve could tell some of his past color-blindness was back, but he could actually make out the details in the room.

The couch was dark blue in color, and the two cats were curled up at the feet end, and Steve could now confirm they were indeed colored ginger and light brown. What shocked him, though after a moment of thinking it wasn't that surprising, was the amount of weapons. There were actual weapons hidden around the living room alone; few handguns taped underneath the table, a rifle tugged in between the cabinets and a wall, and couple of knives in the lower shelves above the sink.

Steve gets up, and slowly walks to the bedroom, checking on the damage done to the wall earlier when James had thrown his nightstand against the wall, and then almost stumbles as his foot hits on something.

He looks down, noticing a lose floorboard.

Steve crouches down next to it, suddenly feeling a little uneasy.

The cats had followed him there, and were looking at him confused, Punky even nudging him with his paw.

Slowly, Steve opens the secret hideout, noting the few knives in it, as well as few journals. As Steve grasps the first journal, pictures fall out from it. They were...they were about him. News clippings about him, and his adventures with the Avengers. Steve blinks, a bit disturbed, and looks trough the book properly. That's when his heart skips a beat.

He....he recognized the hand-writing.

His mind drifts back all those years ago, when he and Bucky had passed notes during class, or when Buck had left one for him when he'd gone out before Steve woke up.

It was...this was the exact same hand writing.

Steve scrolls through the pages, his heart pounding in his chest.

The cats keep meowing at him, clearly confused on what he was doing there, sitting in the middle of the floor. There were very random scribbles, some dating back as far as five years ago; in fact, most of the writing in this book was very old - relatively speaking - and only the latter half about two thirds in had clippings about Captain America. Most of the hand-writing were something akin to random thoughts, or...or memories.

Random memories that pop up in your head and you write them down as they are.

As Steve looked through the other notebooks, they all had the same things in them; random scribblings, memories put on page.

The oldest dated as far back as nine years.

They all used that same, familiar hand-writing Steve had seen so many times during his life. But most of all, as Steve returned back to the newest journal, looking at the few last scribbles done to it, his heart creaked and fell away.

_"I can't do this. Steve needs to know, but I can't make myself state it; I'm a fucking coward."_

Steve lets the book drop from his hands, as he's stunned speechless.

"Oh my God..."

he gasps, just staring at the journals spread in front of him.

The cats meow confused, and Punky places a paw against his hand, before rubbing his arm with his head.

He was....

Bucky was.....

Steve sinks his face into his palms and takes a few deep breaths.

It all made sense now; the familiar voice, the smell, the accent...how the hell did he not realize it?! Bucky was basically giving him hints this entire time, and he hadn't caught on.

But then, but then....did this mean...

Steve hears a meow, and something jumps on his lap.

As he looks down, it's Nat.

She was sitting on his lap, looking at him with her big eyes.

Cautiously, Steve pets the cat, which purrs instantly and then lies down on his lap.

As he sits there, Steve's initial shock wears away, and he begins to wonder.

If...if James really was in fact Bucky, why did he hide his identity from Steve?

What the hell happened to him?

As Steve pets the cat in his thoughts, his eyes land back on the hidden safe, and he spots yet another book. It was different from others. Steve picks up the red book, noting that it looked much older than any of the notebooks. As he opens it, Steve realizes right away, this wasn't Bucky's.

The writing was different, and most of it was in Russian.

There was....there was a photo of Bucky, his face, in some sort of...Steve guessed it was a cryocapsule, as Bucky had actually mentioned being frozen at some point in his notes.

As he scrolls through it, he also sees some pictures about the insides of his metal arm, more photographs about him in a full Winter Soldier get up, as well as...there were...photos of him...injured. Probably after a mission or so. Some of them looked really bad, so much so that Steve had to turn the page quickly not to feel queasy. There was also a list of names, and dates. Steve had an eerie feeling they were victims, as again, Bucky had mentioned of being an assassin for Hydra. Plus, he spots a familiar name.

~~Howard Stark, December 16: th 1991~~

This....whatever this book was, it was evil.

Steve had no clue why Bucky had it.

Slowly, Steve puts all the things back in place, and closes the secret compartment properly. Then, he places Nat to the floor gently and gets up, and walks out of the room in a trance. Even outside the dim bedroom, Steve could note that his vision was much better. It was still blurry on the edges, and he could not see far that well, but he could definitely make out details and read. He...he did not know what to do right now.

If James really was Bucky....then... All the things that had happened...

Steve suddenly wished he was there, just so that he could confirm if it was true.

He had to see the man's face properly before his brain would fully accept this.

Suddenly, there's a knock on the door.

Steve's heart skips a beat, and for a moment, he thinks its James; however, Steve soon slaps himself mentally, knowing that the man probably would not need to do that. He'd taken his keys. The blond stalks towards the door, unsure on if he should open it. Then, he hears a familiar voice calling out to him behind it. He opens the door with a relieved sigh, and greets Sam.

"Hey, what's up?"

The man greets him with a smile, despite looking tired; it was clear Wilson wasn’t that used to getting up this early anymore.

"I was wondering if you’d know an answer to that; I got a message early this morning from James to come and check on you."

" Bucky messaged you?"

"Yeah Bu.....wait." Sam frowns at him as he steps in and closes the door behind him.

"He told you?"

"No, I found his notebooks....wait, you knew?"

Sam releases a slow sigh, and rubs his eyes. "Alright, listen Cap; I told him to talk to you, multiple times. He insisted on me not saying a word."

Steve was in light shock.

Sam had known, all this time, and he hadn't said anything.

"For my defense; I did not know exactly that he was the James Barnes, until recently; sure I had a hunch, but nothing was really confirmed to me until now."

"Sam....why didn't he tell me?" Steve's tone is shaky, and he grasps Sam's shoulders, almost wanting to shake the man. If Sam said it was true, then it had to be.

"A lot of reasons, really; guilt, shame, probably a fear of rejection too." Steve blinks confused, and Sam slowly eases himself out of Steve's grip, to greet the cats that had come to say hello. "Rejection? I understand the guilt and shame, based on what he told me..."

"Look, Cap. I think you know what I mean. He did not turn all sappy towards you for no reason; Barnes made it pretty clear to me he's in love with you, but doesn't know exactly how you feel about him."

Steve blinks again, at a loss of words. Why would Bucky think that he'd...? Then again, it made sense, given that they hadn't been like that in the past.

"Your eyes better?" Sam notes suddenly, standing back up.

"I...yeah, I can see fairly well, though not that far, and colors are off. I can also read texts now."

"Well, I suppose that’s good.” Sam comments, and looks through the cupboards for breakfast supplies.

He makes them some pancakes, and the two eat in silence. Steve was still looking through the notes from Bucky’s diaries, while he kept the red book at arms’ length. Sam had glanced at it once but said nothing, indicating he probably knew what it was. "Dude, if you keep frowning like that you’ll end up with a permanent scowl in your face – though I’m pretty sure you nearly have that already.”

Steve sighs, but cannot stop himself from smiling; he knew all too well how overly serious he appeared to people in modern times.

Rather unlike the man he’d been with Bucky back in the day.

That drops Steve right back at the reality that stared him in the face from those pages, as well as Sam’s words.

Bucky was alive.

He was alive.

He'd been this whole time.

Steve felt his heart swell and ache in a way it never had before, and his body began to shake.

“Whoa, easy there man.” Sam notices the way Steve was verging on tears again, and shifts to rub his back gently, helping Steve to pull through the emotional rush. It was hard, because now Steve was worried; where had Bucky gone to, why hadn’t he said anything? What if he wouldn’t come back? “Steve, breathe.” Sam says gently, and Steve abruptly realizes he’d stopped.

The blond takes in a deep gulp of air, and looks up at Sam with widened eyes.

“Sam…where is he? Did he tell you where he went?”

The African-American male opens his mouth to reply, but then his phone beeps, and the man checks the message he got, a frown in his face.

“Well, it seems I just found out. Sounds like he’s in deep shit right now.”

Sam realizes too late that that was probably the wrong thing to say, as Steve snatches his phone abruptly, his hands shaky as he tries to read the message himself. Steve had to squint a little, but he could eventually make out the words on screen.

_“Shield’s gone to shit, Steve might be in danger, you gotta get him outta there, NOW.”_

There were also coordinates to some place Steve had no idea what it was.

The message was alarming, but given it had been sent just now, it indicated Bucky was alive, which was a huge relief.

"Well, you better start packing up cause we have to leave if the situation really is as dire as I think it is." Sam says simply after watching Steve process the message for a moment. Steve just nods, then glances at the cats that were poking at the notebooks curious.

"How about those two? If...if this place is no longer safe..."

"We can bring the cats to my aunt; she loves animals, and I can tell her a friend asked to look after them as he's away for a bit."

Steve nods a bit; he honestly preferred if they brought the kittens to somewhere hopefully safer for now.

Then, his mind drifts back to the journals and the red book.

Perhaps...he should take them with him as well, at least the red book.

"Come on Cap, we gotta hurry, based on Barnes' tone in the message."

Steve nods after a moment of hesitation, and goes to get whatever he needs.

 

It was around mid-day when Sam reached the place mentioned in the message.

He'd had to use a map to locate its exact whereabouts, as instead of an address, James had given him coordinates.

They'd dropped off the kitties to Sam's aunt, who'd been more than happy to take them in for now.

The two cats had looked after Steve and Sam confused, probably wondering what was going on and where was their master.

Steve had spotted the smoke that rose from the ruins of the former military base, and he and Sam had wisely chosen to avoid that area, sensing that something was off.

When they finally found the abandoned warehouse, the two men were in for a surprise; instead of Barnes, it was Tony who came to greet them.

He'd managed to shake off his armor, and Sam noted he was wearing Barnes' leather jacket, as his clothes within the armor had just been for indoors, and the air was cold.

"He gave it to me, said that either I climb back in to my 'piece of junk' or take it, so that I don't freeze to death quote-on-quote. Normally I'd choose my suit anytime, but right now it's so badly busted that I worry I get trapped in it again, or it explodes on my face or something." The man explains half-assedly.

Steve frowns a bit, as once he gets close enough; he can make out the bruising on the man’s face, and the slight widened eyes, as if Tony had witnessed something horrifying.

It reminded Steve of the look Tony had had right after he woke up from plummeting to the ground from the space-hole.

Tony blinks, and then looks at Steve, probably noticing the way he was looking at him. "Well look what we have here; your eyes any better?"

Steve is about to respond and question what the hell happened to Tony, when his eyes see the other shape heading towards them.

Once it got closer, Steve could tell the male was limping a bit, and rubbed his right shoulder lightly, but otherwise the man seemed fine.

Steve’s heart leaped into his throat once he got a proper look at the man’s face. It really was Bucky. The man seems to realize Steve is staring at him, as he halts, blue eyes wide. "Bucky." The man just stands there, frozen in place.

"....Hi Stevie." His tone is very exhausted and tense, but also...a little relieved.

He didn't have to hide anymore.

Steve almost sprints from the car, and wraps his arms around Bucky, just holding him, holding him as tightly as he could and dared. Bucky just rests his head on his shoulder, leaning against Steve heavily. "Oookay. I did not expect that. Well, kinda did, but not to this magnitude." Tony comments, lifting an eyebrow. Sam pokes him with his elbow, gaining an irritated glare from the billionaire.

"Oh my God, Bucky." Steve whispers, tightening his grip a bit, just sort of nuzzling against his neck.

"Yeah. It's me, I'm afraid." The man chuckles tiredly.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Steve asks once he pulls back to just look at him.

"Now is not the time, really, we gotta..."

Suddenly, Bucky almost collapses as he shifts his weight, and lets out a curse in Russian. Steve quickly supports him, and as he glances down, he wonders if his ankle is broken. "Come on, get in the car already."

Sam gestures to the two, and Steve heads to the backseat with Bucky, while Tony joins Sam to the front, after placing his iron man suit pieces to the trunk.

"What the hell happened? We saw the column of smoke a while back..." Sam asks, glancing at Bucky from his rearview mirror.

The man's face shifts instantly, and he trembles a bit. Steve rubs his back gently, eyes in a concerned frown.

He was still somewhat confused and bewildered, barely able to believe that this was happening, that Bucky was there, right there, sitting beside him. "I found what had hacked into my systems, and it turned out it was actually mechanized brain of a former evil scientist - who still turned out to be evil." Tony explains, gladly curling up under the blanket Sam had given him he had in his car after he noticed how the man had been shaking from cold.

"What?" Steve questions.

"Zola...they'd...saved his brain into this massive computer." Bucky manages to mutter out, leaning back against the bench, his breathing a bit irregular.

Thinking back to this wasn't good for him, clearly.

Plus, his body actually ached pretty badly; while the thing had been falling on them, he'd ended up having some small chunks hit his shoulder and drop on his leg, which now hurt like his ankle was broken.

"Zola?" Steve questions, blinking.

"Yep; the guy had made an evil digital copy of himself. He nearly made Barnes kill me."

"What?!" Steve looks at Bucky, who just shakes his head, eyes closed firmly.

"Not now; just...Sam, there's a place I need you to go."

"Dude, you need a hospital; you look like you are in pain."

"We ain't got time to worry about that. Fury told me to go to a certain place, so that's where we are going!" He snaps at Sam, who turns quiet upon hearing his intense tone.

"Alright, let's go there, then." Steve says with a firm tone, and Sam sighs, asking for directions.

Bucky just hands his pager to Tony; Steve could not stop noticing how the billionaire was very cautious about taking it, as if he was afraid of Bucky. It really hurt his heart to see that, it was almost worse than having Tony hate Bucky. The billionaire looks at the coordinates then uses his handy watch - which now worked properly as Zola was gone and he'd managed to de-bug his systems finally - and translates it into driving directions.

 

 

 

What the place turned out to be, was an old dam. Steve was a little surprised to see Bruce there, who instantly took notice at Bucky's injuries, as well as Tony's.

"Come on in, quickly." The woman with him instructs them. Steve recalls her from the helicarrier - Maria Hill if his memory served him right. Inside the dam, there was a large corridor and a large room at the end of it.

Fury was there, waiting for them. He looked injured as well, like he'd been attacked. Natasha was there too, and as she saw Bucky's condition, she rushed there instantly.

"What happened?"

"Bunch of concrete fell on us, thanks for worrying by the way." Tony comments, sounding a bit miffed that she was only worrying over Barnes.

The woman just gives him a look, and helps him sit down with Steve.

“Nat, please don’t do that; Stark’s been through some shit too, it ain’t fair for you to be worried over me yet ignore him.” Bucky comments tiredly as he notices the way Tony reacts to Natasha’s glare. “I’m used to being brushed aside by the widow.” Tony mumbles out under his breath, tugging the blanket firmer around him.

"What is going on here?" Steve demands almost instantly from Fury, who just sighs, rubbing his eyes.

"Why...Why did you not tell me about Bucky?"

"He was not of your concern."

"Bucky is MY friend!"

Steve almost yells at the man, taking a step closer as if to grasp him by the collar.

"Steve."

That freezes the blond man to his tracks, and he turns to look at Bucky, who was gazing at him tiredly.

"I. Told him. Not to tell you."

"Why?"

"Because...it's a long story."

Steve gazes at him for a moment, and then sighs.

Yeah, it was probably a long story, and the current situation at hand was more important.

"Back to the actual situation; what is going on, why are we meeting in this smelly cave?"

Tony asks, while being patched up by Bruce. His injuries were relatively minor though, just some bruises and a small cut on the forehead. "Shield headquarters has been compromised; we thought we'd weeded out most of the Hydra already, but there were more of them than we originally presumed." Hill explains.

"I was heading home, when my car was attacked. Barely managed to escape and come in here." Steve frowns upon hearing this.

"When did this happen?"

"Seventy two hours ago."

"Why is Bruce here too and Natasha?"

Steve asks then.

"Natasha brought me here just few hours ago; she told we were going out for food, but it quickly became clear something was wrong."

"I told Romanoff to get Banner out of the tower in case it was targeted again; we don't want the Hulk to run rampant across New York." Fury explains simply, glancing at Bruce who makes a face, but says nothing.

"Well, that ain't gonna happen cause Hydra trashed their top-hacker with their very own hands." Tony points out, and explains to Fury what had happened.

The scarred man's eye widens once he hears Tony's story, and he actually looks a bit concerned for a moment, which was a feat. Nick Fury rarely looked concerned.

"I managed to snap him out of it, but gotta say; I still need a change of pants by the way.” Steve gives a glare at Tony, but Bucky grasps his hand and shakes his head.

The brunet could tell that while Tony was acting his usual joking, cocky self, he was still shaking under the blanket he wore.

"What are we going to do now, then?" Sam questions, arms crossed.

"Hill and I have already been planning on a counter-attack, but we will need your help on this. However, it seems to be better to patch up some of you first." Fury glances at Barnes pointedly, who remains quiet.

"Perhaps I can..." Bruce begins, stepping closer to the brunet.

Bucky tenses visibly.

It was not that he had anything against the doc friend of Steve, he seemed like a good person, but right now...he really did not want any strangers near him.

"Maybe I should do it Bruce; if...they are probably rather basic so I can fix those."

"Oh, yes, about your eyes Cap; how are they?" The doctor asks, and Steve glances around a bit.

"Much better. My faraway vision is still bad though and I’m partially color-blind, and assisting depth is a bit tricky as well. No fever anymore, which has to be a good sign."

"Well, that is good to hear. I do actually have a potential antidote with me, if you want to try…maybe it'll help finish the healing job.”

Steve glances at Bucky, who was still holding his side, and then at Tony, noting that the billionaire had sat down and was rubbing his wrist. Steve could not be sure that this healing of his would last, but honestly at this current situation, his eyes were the least of their problems.

The blond could now tell that Tony really wasn’t as okay as you’d initially thought from his joking earlier.

Steve sighs and looks back at Bucky.

"Preferably after I patch up Bucky, if that's okay; rather, Bruce could you check on Tony, he seems to need some assistance."

The doctor just nods at that, looking at Tony with a slight frown.

 

 

They both remained quiet, as Steve assisted his wounds.

There was bruising on his back near the right shoulder, as well as a cut that Steve stitched up carefully.

Bucky's ankle wasn't broken luckily, just twisted, but Steve hesitated on doing anything about it. Because of that, Barnes just yanked it back in its place himself with a slight hiss. "We brought your cats to Sam's aunt, just so you know."

"Thanks; if those Hydra bastards would hurt 'em, I'd chase them to ends of hell." His intense, grunting tone was a little surprising to Steve.

Perhaps because it did not sound like Bucky.

It was like James to be like that, but not like Bucky, Bucky's anger had never been this intense.

Then again, while he was Bucky, he was also somebody different; that much was clear.

That's why he'd been able to fool Steve for so long. That and the blond's obvious willful ignorance. he'd been blind in more ways than one.

"I uh....I also found your journals."

The man tenses, but doesn't say anything, so Steve continues.

"They are in the bag; including that red book. I felt it was important."

Bucky's eyes instantly hit on the back bag sitting on the corner, and his heartbeat fastens a little.

The man swallows down nervously, and nods.

"Good. Especially that red one. We gotta...we have to keep it out of the wrong hands."

Steve did not ask him why; while he could not quite read Russian, Steve could deduce from the pictures alone that it was something serious, something that probably related to whatever had happened to Bucky after he fell.

“Will Tony be okay?” Bucky asks after a moment, face in a frown.

“Bruce and Sam are checking on him; I’m sure he’ll be fine in no time, He’s Tony after all.” Steve reassures the brunet, who shakes his head.

“He needs to go see a shrink; I see so many warning signs to be honest.”

“Yeah, convincing him to do that is going to be hard.”

Bucky snorts, and shoots him a look. “Know a fellah like that.”

The blond says nothing to that, knowing Bucky had a point.

Once Steve was done wrapping up his shoulder, the blond man shifts to sit beside him on the small hospital-styled bed they sat on. He'd gone to a private room with Bucky, they'd been allowed to as everybody seemed to know they had a lot to talk about.

"Bucky...." The brunet sighs as he holds his shirt in his hands, not trying to tug it on yet.

"What...is it that you wanna know? I've told you quite a bit already."

"....How did you survive?"

"Serum. Zola had pumped me with Hydra-variant of your super soldier stuff, so it helped me to survive. Lost my arm, but I lived."

Steve swallows down hardly, and Bucky notices his unease, so he squeezes Steve's shoulder gently.

"Hey. Not your fault. Even if you'd tried you would not have found me, as the Russians recovered me almost right after I fell." Steve blinks, a little surprised, but says nothing. There is a moment of silence, before Bucky continues.

"I was in a Russian prison for few years, then Zola snatched me right back in. Gave me the arm, started the whole...brainwashing process. Took him at least ten years to make me obey completely, mind you."

There was a slight tint of humor in his voice, but Steve did not find it funny; ten years of struggling probably meant ten years of torture.

"Hey. Don't make that mopey face; I got out."

"But...the things they made you do...they made you kill people against your will."

"Yeah, I think I mentioned that at some point." Bucky brushes his hair with a sigh.

He sounded really exhausted, and part of Steve wondered if he should just let Bucky sleep.

With his busted ankle, Steve wasn't sure if Fury would let him join their mission tomorrow - let alone if he would allow it.

Although, he doubted either of them would be able to stop him from doing it, either.

"Look, Steve. There's no point in moping about this; what's done is done. During the past ten years, I learned to try and not to wallow in it." Bucky's tone is encouraging, and he turns towards Steve a bit more with a slight smile. It wasn't as wide as the smile he'd had in the past, but it was a genuine one nevertheless.

Steve sighs, and for a moment they remain quiet.

Then, another burning question pops in his mind, and Steve looks up at Bucky again.

"Bucky..."

"If it's about Sam, he did know, I just asked him not to say anything."

"No, I know that, he told me."

Bucky seems to catch up on what Steve wanted to talk about, as he backs away a bit, drifting his gaze away from Steve. The room settles into an awkward silence, almost if neither of them knew how to speak about this.

"Back then, when, you know....did you...?" Steve manages to stutter out, and Bucky's eyes drift back at him. He was holding his metal arm, rubbing it uneasily.

"Probably. I did not really realize what it was back then thought. It wasn't until...after I got out and recollected my memories, that I figured out how I'd actually felt. Freaked out pretty bad at first, gotta admit." The man laughs a bit, but it's a forced one, and he quickly turns his gaze away again.

"So...did you...keep quiet because...you feared that...?"

Bucky remains silent, and then releases a slow sigh, shifting to sit on the bed fully, facing Steve properly.

"I wasn't afraid of a rejection; I knew...believed one hundred percent it would happen. What I feared was how I could exist around you, with all these...unusual thoughts in my head."

Steve felt his face gain color a bit. He could guess what Bucky meant by unusual thoughts.

"Then, when that stuff happened...then I started to worry that the guy you apparently had a crush on wasn't me, but 'James,' and if you found out I was really...me...you would not be able to see me that way, cause I'm, well, me."

The brunet keeps his gaze away from Steve, almost afraid to look at him.

"Bucky...." Steve begins, and then swallows down nervously.

Come on, he wasn't a coward; he had to get this out! He had to say it.

"I did not...the reason I grew fond of 'James' was because he reminded me of you. I felt bad because I thought....I thought I was projecting you into a stranger, because I could have never... not with you. And, for me to...it did not feel right towards him." Bucky blinks, and turns to look at Steve, clearly surprised. The blond man releases a slow sigh and brushes his hair, now avoiding Bucky's gaze himself.

"At least, that's what I thought; I did not know...that you...you always had a dame in your arm back then." Steve finished helplessly; he could not bring himself to outright say the words.

"Stevie."

The blond man looks up at Bucky, who sighs with a smile.

This time, it was a very bright one, similar to those he'd had in the past.

"You're so awkward when it comes to this; even with dames, you get all flustered and stutter." There was a teasing tone in his voice, and Steve ducks a bit, now his ears were gaining color as well.

"It should not be like that with me, though; I'm just me. I’m that crazy sonofabitch who put up with you for so many years, and would do it for another century, do you know why?"

Steve shook his head, taken aback by the intense tone Bucky had right now.

“Because I bloody _love you_ , I love you so much; and if it means I gotta bitch and complain uselessly for your recklessness, I’ll do it, cause I’d rather die covering your back than walking away from you, no matter how much of a pain in the ass you can be.”

Steve felt his heart creak, and as he looked up at the smiling face in front of him, his heart just fell away.

He leans closer, and Bucky instantly responds to it, kissing him gently, then grasping onto Steve's collar and tugging him closer.

The blond man wraps his arms around Bucky, this time with zero hesitation. Steve kisses him deeply, feeling a certain kind of happiness rise within him; there were still a lot of questions, lot of things to deal with, but right now, he was just happy that Bucky was right there. The brunet wraps his legs around Steve, basically climbing to sit on his lap either not bothered by his injuries, or ignoring them.

The blond’s face darkens couple of shades, but he just holds onto Bucky tighter.

Bucky's arms sneak around his neck, though he finally flinches a bit due to his injured shoulder.

Steve moves back a bit to look at him concerned, but Bucky just shakes his head, tugging him closer by the neck.

"M'fine. Stop being a mother-hen."

"Gotta repay you."

Bucky lets out a laugh, and then kisses Steve again, parting his lips a bit to brush his tongue over Steve's mouth, making the man holding him shiver a bit. Part of Steve thought of getting rid of his shirt as well just to be a bit closer to Bucky, but the same time, he did not want to let go of him. His fingers mingle at the long brown hair gently, and Bucky lets out an approving groan as he tugs on it a bit.

He then shifts his weight, actually dragging Steve down with him, leaning back on to the bed.

Before he can get more comfortable however, a cough is heard from the door, and Steve lets go of Bucky abruptly, forcing him to brace himself against the bed with his elbows.

It was Sam, he was leaning against the doorway arms crossed, with a sly smirk on his face. "About damn time you two. Also, Fury wanted to inform you they'll discuss about the details of the plan soon, so you might wanna finish up patching your boyfriend, Cap. Or should I tell 'em to give you couple of more hours?"

Steve felt his entire face flush deep red, but before he could even react, Bucky snatches a knife from his belt, and throws it at Sam - beside his head and against the wall to be exact.

Steve looks at Bucky absolutely horrified, but Sam just rolls his eyes with a smirk.

He was clearly used to Bucky doing that.

"Fuck off Wilson!" The brunet growls annoyed.

"I tell 'em you're ready soon." With that, he leaves the room, closing the door as he left.

"That sly little shit. I swear, that was revenge for me sneaking up on him so many times before." Bucky huffs, though he did not sound as angry as he seemed as there was a hint of humor in his tone.

Steve just sat there, his face fuming like crazy.

Bucky sits back up, and cups Steve's cheek, gaining his attention. "Chill. Sam's not gonna say anything - besides, if you keep blushing like that, you make it obvious to everybody." That, of course, made Steve blush even more.

Bucky just laughs and kisses his cheek gently.

"Come on now, Captain blushy-face. We gotta head out soon as others need you to lead 'em."

"Can't Fury do this?"

Bucky grasps his shoulder, and gives him a meaningful look.

"Perhaps, but you're the one EVERYBODY listens, and I think even Fury might need that right now."

Steve sighs, and nods.

They could...do this later.

Right now they had a crisis to deal with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...Nearing the end. The start of this chapter happens around the same time Steve is dreaming, and Bucky and Tony's adventure is also happening the same time Steve is looking trough Bucky's notes.  
> Fight scenes are hard. the ninth chapter will have a fight.  
> This is gonna be a challenge. 
> 
> The ninth chapter is going to somewhat follow what happened in the Winter Soldier movie, though it's fundamentally different given we got more Avengers joining in, and the Winter Soldier is one of the good guys too.  
> I probably have to watch the movie again to come up with how to play ball with the final chapter.  
> I also feel like I might actually make this a ten-chapter thing, have the final chapter be sort of an epilogue.


	9. The final Conflict

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and his team head out to deal with the bad guys.  
> Just another day in the office for Captain Rogers.  
> Also, Bucky recalls exactly why he doesn't like Pierce

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm SO sorry for the longer wait; I ended up going to an unexpected hiatus due to receiving a scholarship for Graphic design and I had to focus on planning my move to the new city, as well as finding the apartment and dealing with other paperwork stuff.  
> Because of this, I did not have time, Energy, or motivation to write, but now I finally managed to complete this chapter.  
> I have to say, action scenes are not my strongest point, so I have to apologize in advance if the quality in this is not as good as with previous chapters.  
> Also, Pierce looking like Steve when he was younger is based on what I've seen around a lot, that apparently the actor reminded Chris Evans/Cap looks-wise in his youth 
> 
> We'll find out what was going on with Steve in the last chapter, BTW. This one focused on Bucky's side of the story.

 "So let me get this straight; you somehow failed to notice that Hydra had in fact invested right into the HQ as well?" Tony asks after a pause in the air.

"You did not spot them either, Tony, from your files." Natasha points out, to which the billionaire shrugs.

"I still had a lot of stuff to go trough, and since I was busy with other stuff, I never get to it."

"It's bigger than just Shield HQ; Director Fury has reasons to believe the problems may go as far as our own government." Maria Hill joins in the conversation, and gives a pointed look at Barnes.

"I believe some of your....missions may have had some significance and implications of that."

Everybody now looks at Barnes, who looks incredibly uncomfortable.

Steve remains beside him, gazing at the man worried.

"Yeah...some of the stuff I found about them was...alarming."

"Was this during or after the time your brain was scrambled eggs?" Tony questions, gaining another annoyed glare from Steve.

Bucky just grasps Steve’s hand and shakes his head. It was hard for Steve to let Tony’s behavior slide in this serious situation, but Bucky clearly had a reason to keep telling him to not be upset about it. The blond did not know exactly what the reason was, but he trusted Bucky enough to follow his advice. Funnily enough, even when it was Bucky telling him what to do that was a new one; him listening to somebody’s advice.

"Both, actually. Did not pay attention so much when I was...under. But now when I think back on it, I can actually recognize some faces that are in the government." That surprises everyone, including Fury.

"You never told me Soldier, that you may have seen some of them."

"They kept slipping from my mind as they usually were irrelevant to the mission, but..."

Bucky gets up and leans over the table that has photographs of suspected Hydra loyalists. Then, his face goes slightly pale, as if he’d seen something that terrified him. Slowly, he slides a picture towards Fury with a tight expression.

"I remember him." Bucky points at an older male, with a greyish blond hair.

"Alexander Pierce. He's a peace Nobelist."

"Where did you see him, Buck?"

"Back in....98 I'd say. He was the guy who'd requested me for a task."

A shudder travels down Bucky's spine, and he sits back down. Steve places a hand on his back, just rubbing it gently; he did not quite understand why the man seemed so distraught, but chose not to question it right now. They had more important things to deal with at the moment.

"Let's just say I don't like the guy much." Bucky mutters after a moment, not entirely sure himself why this man especially irked him so much.

 

The table goes quiet for a moment, and Fury picks up the picture, looking at it with a frown.

"This man chose me into this position I am now. It makes me wonder why he did it, if he is in fact Hydra loyalist."

"Keep your friends close, and enemies even closer." Natasha states simply.

Bucky glances at her, noting that she still looked a bit pale, but the bullet wound did not seem to cause too much bother for her anymore.

"Well, Barnes’ words do match the Intel we have gained; we in fact believe he is the main perpetrator behind the overtaking on Shield. He probably also hired the hitmen to kill Fury." Maria comments pointedly, bringing something to the table: it was a suitcase.

"Why did they want to take over the Headquarters?" Steve questions.

"Probably because of the project Insight." Maria replies as she sits back down.

"What is project Insight?" Bruce joins in the conversation, having been quiet for the most of it. He was probably still observing Steve, seeing if his antidote worked. Bruce had given it to him before the meeting started, and so far, despite initial, short-lived nausea, it seemed to be working as Steve had noted rest of the itching and his vision had sharpened remarkably, not to mention the way colors had become vibrant again. It was still a bit blurry here and there, but according to Bruce, the cure would take a little while to fully cleanse Steve’s body from any leftover toxins that had attached themselves onto his cells. In all honesty, the man had clearly been nervous if the antidote would truly work, but so far it seemed to be doing its job.

That, or Steve was hiding the truth, which was not unheard of.

"Triplet of top-notch helicarrier ships with enough firepower to wipe out a lot of bad people. If used right, because gun generally doesn't choose its target, the user does, ain't that right?" Tony glances at Barnes hesitantly, who looks back at Tony a little surprised.

They seemed to be having this silent discussion between one another that nobody else quite understood. Eventually, Bucky drops his gaze with a sigh and rubs his eyes.

”Sounds about right.” He mutters.

Fury, for Steve’s confusion, doesn’t seem too surprised about Tony’s excessive knowledge on this particular project. Normally the man would have probably been annoyed at Tony for poking into SHIELD’S business.

"You know we only asked you to look at the engines."

"And I did, I looked at them, told you they were shit and replaced them, so I did more than you asked, hence I deserved extra payment."

Fury just shakes his head, too preoccupied with bigger problems to care for Tony's sass.

"Wait...what is this about, exactly?" Steve asks, not liking the sound of what the two described.

"Project Insight was supposed to be used to target and neutralize multiple threats at once - terrorists, war - criminals, supervillains, all sorts potential threats; it was to be used to eliminate these threats before they happen. But in the wrong hands, it can be used to commit mass murder."

"Isn't doing that already mass murder, criminal or not?"

The room goes quiet, because what the hell were you supposed to say to that, especially when it came from Captain America himself.

Bucky was fucking proud, even if he didn’t show it.

"Shouldn't punishment come after the crime, not before it's done?" The Captain presses on as he gains no answer from anybody.

"Steve has a point, to be honest." Natasha sighs, brushing her hair. Even Bruce nodded slightly, agreeing with the notion.

"I suppose now it is too late to ponder the moral issues regarding to this, for we have to take the helicarriers down anyway to save millions of lives." Maria comments, and then opens the suitcase, showcasing them three microchips.

"Stark made these; the chips were designed, so that once we get them into each carrier and link them, we can take control over the entire ship." She explains to the group. Steve glances at the billionaire surprised, who shrugs, rubbing his head. ”Always have a plan B in case your designs go haywire. I learned that after our company weapons ended in wrong hands.” The billionaire explains sheepishly, gaining a pointed look from Fury.

”I believe the only part you did do here is the engines.”

"Are you going to complain about me giving us a chance to stop this mess?"

The one eyed man hums and smirks.

”Not really, no.”

Then, he turns serious and leans closer to the group around the table. "This mission is supposed to be done secretly; once we manage to restrain the helicarriers, we can focus on trying to save what we can from Shield.”

"We're not saving anything."

Everybody turns to look at Steve now, who had stood up, staring at the group with a serious frown.

"This has been going on for too long; we can't know who is friend and who is foe within Shield anymore. It all goes. Shield and Hydra." Before Fury can protest, Barnes breaks his silence as well.

"Steve's right. I did my best wiping out the biggest weeds for you, but there were always more. We gotta end this, now."

Fury glances around the table, noting that a lot of the group seemed to be siding with Steve. He sighs and leans back, resigned look on his face. "Well, it looks like you are giving the orders now, Cap."

"So, what's the plan, Capsicle?" Tony asks, clearly eager to get to work.

Dismantling a threat that was partially caused by him was his specialty after all.

Steve sits back down, glancing at Bucky beside him, who just gives him an encouraging nod. The blond man forced his heart not to swell up right now; yes he was happy, but they still had crisis to deal with.

".....Tony, you said you had files on Shield." The billionaire nods, quickly following Steve’s train of thought

”There has to be more within Shield, if we release those to the public, Hydra will have nowhere to hide.” Fury looked like he was about to object to this idea, but Hill gave him a loot that kept the man quiet. She then turns his attention to Steve. ”That can be done from the Director’s office, probably, but that’s where Pierce is." Steve hums at that, contemplating it for a moment.

”We have to attack this at two fronts; one team tackles the chips, another deals with the Director’s office.”

"We have another issue; the Security Council is coming for a visit tomorrow, when they launch the ships. They can be used as hostages." Natasha points out.

”Then we have all the more reasons to send somebody up there.” Bruce comments mildly, and Steve nods at that, agreeing with the Doctor.

”How are we gonna make sure Hydra won’t end up slipping right past our fingers?” Tony comments thoughtfully; even if they did stop the carriers, there was no telling which branch of Shield was Hydra, and which was not. Steve just gives everybody a stern, determined look.

”I already told you; we release everything to the public. That way, Hydra has no place to hide.”

Tony’s eyes widen, as if he had not realized the meaning behind this part of their plan before. Perhaps his earlier, near-death experience was still messing with his brain, making him catch on slower. Maybe his injuries were worse than they seemed, Steve was not sure.

"Steve,,,Are you absolutely sure we should do that? I mean...that could ruin the entire intelligence system of the entire nation." Bruce points out.

"If Hydra is really in control, they've been giving the country lies, not intel." Natasha comments simply, her face in a deep frown.

She then turns to look at Barnes, clearly a little concerned. "Of course....Steve you do realize if we do this, James' files will be released to public as well. He's not going to be anonymous anymore." She continues after a moment of silence.

Steve glances at Bucky, now a little worried, but the man just shrugs.

"Tired of hiding."

"Yeah, about that...” Everybody turns to look at Tony, who takes in a deep breath, and looks at Steve with an unusually determined look.

”If he’s gonna need legal assistance, I’m willing to help. I might also have something to help with the....you know, triggering problem.” Steve stares at Tony lightly surprised, though not as surprised as Bucky was.

The billionaire was offering him help, despite what had happened.

Steve glances at Bucky, then back at Tony, before his face breaks into a smile, and it was clear that he was trying not to cry right now, he had to stay strong. ”Thank you Tony; you have no idea how much I appreciate that.”

”Don’t get sappy on me, Cap. Let’s just get this shit done.”

Steve looks at Bucky again, who gazes at Tony quiet, until his blue eyes finally shift at the blond man.

"Let's do this, Steve."

 

So, the final plan was this; since Zola was now gone, and Tony had de-bugged his systems, Bruce and Tony came to the conclusion it would be safe to return to the tower; they’d work with Jarvis to decode rest of the files Tony had and spread them around. He kept his suits on stand-by in case the Iron Man did have to get up close and personal with this.

The billionaire had wanted to be at the front too, naturally, but Steve had swiftly pointed out that he was still badly shaken from his experiences back in New Jersey and probably should not join in right now, at least not unless the situation called it.

Plus, him being directly involved in this mess could be bad PR for his company and potentially cause it to slip in the wrong hands again, which had nearly happened with Obadiah Stane.

Hill’s job was to aid the micro-chip team in order to get the carriers under their control. They all hoped that the biggest mess this operation would cause would just be the media storm over the released files, but there was a risk that they’d have to physically take down the helicarriers, and all Steve could hope was that it would not happen over the city and its people.

Natasha's job was to sneak in with the Security Council into the Director’s office and aid the possible hostages, as well as unlock rest of the Shield/Hydra secrets to the world with Fury's help.

Steve, Bucky and Sam would deal with the actual carriers and the microchips; after a lengthy argument between the director, Steve, and Barnes, the two reluctantly came to the conclusion they really could not stop Barnes from joining in on the mission.

He was not gonna sit this one out, and his ankle was better already, at least according to him.

"Been on field with worse injuries." He'd told them.

Steve had wanted to point out that they weren't Hydra and did not expect him to join in when he wasn't in full health, but he'd known Bucky would not take a no as an answer now, so he'd remained quiet. The blond man had inquired about their missing member - namely Barton as Thor was still god knew where - but Natasha told him that it was for the best to not get Clint involved right now, something about a ’family vacation’ he’d promised, whatever that meant.

He chose not to ask any further questions; with the team they had, surely this could be done even if Barton sat this one out.

”I thought you said he left together with Romanoff.” Bucky points out to Tony as he hears the conversation between Steve and Natasha, to which the billionaire shrugs.

”I just assumed that they left together, I don’t follow everybody’s movements 24/7.” The brunet said nothing to that. Before Tony and Bruce had left, Bucky had handed the bag with the journals for Tony personally, stating that there were some things in there he needed to keep safe.

"Don't touch 'em without my permission, especially the red one. Not because I don't want you to read it, but because the shit there can give you nightmares." Steve was fairly sure Tony would end up looking through them anyway, but Bucky surprisingly wasn't too concerned about it.

The billionaire had just nodded, before heading out with Bruce and the bag.

As for why Sam joined in the helicarrier-buster team, it turned out he had a hidden trick on his sleeve, which they went and 'borrowed' from Fort Meade. Natasha, Tony and Bucky did the borrowing to be exact, as they were the best suited for the task. They also got an uniform for Steve - they stole it from the museum, given the Shield one could be tracked - and also managed to find Barnes his gear, probably picking it up from his house.

 

Now, Steve was standing on the bridge nearby their hideout, sunken in his thoughts.

 

The sun was setting, and everything was drowning in red and orange hues. He had a lot to think about, but he tried to keep his mind focused on the task ahead. He was also just taking in the surroundings, the colors and details he'd been unable to see for so long. Then, a metallic hand lands on his shoulder, and Steve turns, finding Bucky beside him.

"Hey, what's up?"

"Just...a little tense." Steve admits, his eyes examining Bucky's face now that he could finally do it properly.

Sure, he had done it when patching the man up, but he'd gotten...preoccupied rather quickly.

"Why? This ain't much different from the shit that happened in New York."

"Yeah, it's just..."

Steve sighs and turns to lean his back against the bridge wall, like Bucky did.

"Peggy...she made Shield. To find out it had been...infiltrated by our enemy from the start...it's..."

"It sucks, yeah, but that's why we're doing this."

"Yeah..." Steve releases a slow breath, and turns to look at Bucky with a smile.

"I'm happy that you're here, Buck."

He really, really meant it.

The brunet shrugs, his long brown hair hitting his face a bit in the wind.

"Just doin' my job of saving your sorry ass again."

Steve punches him in the shoulder - the non-injured one - jokingly, gaining a laugh from Bucky, who moves to wrap an arm around his neck and mess up his hair. Once he's done, Bucky slides both of his hands around Steve's neck, just holding them there gently. Steve tilts his forehead against Bucky's, smiling like a damn sap. "But yeah; glad to know you're happy to see me."

Steve says nothing, just gazes at Bucky for a bit. Steve was finally feeling okay, and his eyes were still clear, which had to mean Bruce’s cure worked. He was more than okay, in fact; Steve felt...much more alive than he had in years, and that was probably contributed to the man in front of him. He was still very familiar, despite the obvious changes.

His eyes were still the same tone of blue, even if they were more serious and weighed, his smile was still like the peak of a sunrise even if it wasn't as wide, and his jaw, his nose, and all of Bucky's features were still in place, unchanged.

The hair was longer, granted, but Steve honestly loved it. He probably would need to shave again at some point, though. It looked good on Bucky, though everything would probably look good on him in Steve's eyes. Steve's arms sneak around Bucky's waist almost reflexively, and he tugs the man closer, who chuckles at him when he feels it.

"Geez, and I thought my cats were needy."

He says with a teasing tone, making Steve blush a little. Before he can retaliate however, Bucky's lips touch his, and Steve's mind halts, unable to focus on anything else but that warm touch. His eyes close, and he answers the gesture, tilting his head a bit. Bucky's arms slip further around his neck and tug Steve as close as he could, keeping him there until Steve was out of breath.

Once they separate for a bit, the blond man was breathing heavily, his mind dizzy with all sorts of emotions. The only thing he could really think about in his mind right now was Bucky. Perhaps that had been his intention, given the fact how tense Steve had been before.

"I'm not sure if you should let me do this; you're gonna need to focus later on, once we do this shit."

Bucky purrs at him, and Steve feels all sorts of tingling run up and down his body.

"Do what, exactly?" He questions with almost equally playful tone, though it wasn't as good as Buckys, for Steve was not exactly used to flirting.

The brunet chuckles a bit, his voice low and familiar.

He then leans up, brushing his lips over Steve's ear.

"Don't play dumb, Rogers; you might have a rock for a head, but you still got a brain in there."

He whispers, letting his breath tingle against Steve's skin. It made him shudder, his pants tighten, and Steve glanced around, hoping to god or whatever deity, that nobody would show up and surprise them. Especially Sam.

Almost if sensing Steve's uncertainty, Bucky lets out a small laugh and slowly let’s go of him. He doesn't go far, just leans against the bridge wall beside Steve like he'd done before.

"Relax; they're still mapping out the details, and decided to give you some time to clear your head - by that I mean that I pointed a gun at their heads and told 'em to leave us alone for a little while."

"I hope that was a joke."

Bucky lifts eyebrow, keeping up a poker-face. "Who knows."

Steve lets out an annoyed, but also a fondness filled huff, shaking his head.

"You're one of a kind, Barnes."

"Right back at you, Rogers."

 

They spend a moment just gazing at each other quiet, clearly happy to be together again. Finally though, Steve cannot stop himself, he had to ask about this. ”Back there...when you and Tony...?”

The brunet sighs and leans his head against Steve’s shoulder. ”Zola used the trigger-words on me. We had no way of escaping because the bastard locked us in there and Tony’s suit was buggy.”

”How did you manage to snap out of it?”

”Stark managed to speak some sense to me. Though I think it’s also because of how long it had been since. It made it easier to resist.”

Steve hums, rubbing Bucky’s scalp subconsciously.

”....You know. I think you might be a tad too harsh on Tony.”

”How so?”

Bucky huffs and looks up at Steve with a scolding look. ”Come on; he’s obviously got issues, yet you act sometimes like he’s some spoiled kid - okay, he might be a little bit of a brat - but I think it doesn’t really help his case when...when you do that disappointed-Captain-stare at him.”

Steve hums, and casts his gaze aside for a moment as he ponders Bucky’s words.

”I guess...we just come from such different worlds. He’s so different to me, so us clashing is inevitable.”

”How’s he different from his pops back then? You and Howard got along just fine, yet you treat them differently.”

Steve sighs and turns his gaze back at Bucky, who was looking at him with a frown now.

”I think...you might know the answer why I act differently; it’s not just how I act towards Tony that’s different….”

Bucky remains quiet for a moment, then sighs, shaking his head. It was…honestly a little concerning how much influence he had over Steve.

”You’re hopeless.”

Steve had to agree with that.

 

They remain on the bridge for a bit longer, until the sun sets, and then head back inside the bunker, getting some sleep before the big mission. Steve was clearly itching to get going, but they all needed rest; while the signs so far had been good, it was still a question mark if the elixir Bruce gave him truly eliminated all of the toxins, and Bucky had to let his injured leg heal.

They headed back to the small side-room Steve had patched Bucky in earlier.

There still was just one bed near the wall, but it did not matter.

They had slept next to each other before, and especially now it was not a problem. Steve lies down, but cannot fall asleep, so he just watches Bucky, who was resting on his back, the injured foot elevated lightly to not put too much pressure on it. Since it was only twisted, chances were it would be fine tomorrow, but Steve still felt concerned about it. Eventually, the brunet lets out a slow sigh and turns his head to gaze at Steve in the darkness.

”Relax; you gotta catch some shut-eye as tomorrow’s gonna be a long day.”

”I know. I just...” Steve could not put to words what he felt right now; part of him feared Bucky would disappear the second he closed his eyes.

He feared that this all would be a dream, and he’d wake up back in his apartment, alone with his memories and sorrow.

Bucky examines his face for a moment, and then slowly turns to his side, cupping Steve’s cheek with his metal hand. He leans closer and kisses the blond gently, a slow, long kiss that sent warmth surging up and down Steve’s body, all the way from his head to the tip of his toes.

”I get why you’re afraid, but I’m not gonna up and disappear once you close your eyes.” Bucky scolds him gently, shifting closer until he could tug Steve into his arms, making the blond rest his head against his chest.

Steve sighs almost content; draping an arm around Bucky’s waist as he nuzzles against the soft canvas of the black shirt the man wore.

Bucky was warm, just like those other times he’d held Steve while he’d been blinded.

Human fingers draw patterns to Steve’s back, their touch somehow able to relax his raging mind bit by bit. The metal arm rested on Bucky’s side, but eventually he brings it up too, brushing Steve’s cheek and hair gently. The touch was much cooler, but equally gentle. After a moment, Steve could feel the cool touch start rubbing his scalp slowly, and the touch sent shivers down his spine as it felt unexpectedly good. So good in fact, that his body ends up having a rather embarrassing involuntary reaction, which makes Steve to jerk up and move away from Bucky, his face turning into a delightful shade of red.

Granted, Bucky could not see it in the darkness, but he could guess what had happened, and the brunet lets out a quiet laugh, rubbing his eyes.

”Jesus Christ Rogers; even my cats don’t get that excited when I scratch them.”

Bucky teases him, and Steve coughs, embarrassed, before slumping back down beside the brunet. He kind of wanted to back further away, but there was a wall in his way. ”I’m guessing it’s the serum; makes certain...reactions stronger or something.”

Steve mumbles, still feeling the heat on his face, as well as the slight tightness in his pants. It was...embarrassing.

”Or something, huh?” Bucky whispers with a smile, a flash of white teeth in the darkness, and the blond could feel his heart melt in his chest as he sees that.

It was so familiar in this otherwise foreign world he’d ended up waking in few years back. The brunet shifts so they were laying face to face again, gazing at Steve with his blue eyes. His metallic hand reaches for Steve’s hand resting between them, and mingles the cold fingers with Steve’s, giving the hand a light squeeze. It was still amazing how gentle Bucky could be with that thing.

”Don’t be so awkward about it Stevie; m’glad I don’t look like shit in your eyes; though we might wanna hold off with that business until there's no impending doom looming over our heads.” Bucky teases him again, gaining a snort from Steve.

”Your mug is still ugly, Barnes; it has to be true love for me to ignore that.”

”Likewise, Rogers.”

Bucky deadpans back, and for a moment they both just snicker in the quiet darkness, like they were back in Steve’s house in the forties, as kids, laughing at some lame ass inside joke between them.

After the snickering dies down, Steve keeps examining Bucky in the dim room, and the brunet lets him, blue eyes cast down at their joined hands, a light, almost serene smile on his lips. It was almost hard to imagine all the horrors Bucky had gone through, looking at him right now; he seemed content resting there, beside Steve, their dire situation momentarily pushed aside to enjoy this small sliver of peace.

”The antidote still working?” Bucky questions softly after a moment. Steve had honestly not even thought about that yet, mind too filled with… everything at the same time.

He focuses on his body for a moment, ignoring the embarrassing reaction he was still having.

”I do feel normal now. I suppose it really worked.”

”That’s good.” Bucky comments, but Steve could tell he was still concerned.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

”You’re really strong, you know?” Bucky looks up at him with lift eyebrow.

”You...despite all that’s happened to you, you managed to pull yourself together and sort of keep going. I just...I feel like the best I’ve done so far in this time and age is exist.” Steve admits, his voice tight. He’d always felt detached from the world around him, and even if he’d made friends with some of the Avengers such as Natasha, he still had felt like an outsider.

”Yeah, well, I would not say I did much better; I’m mainly known as that grumpy elusive neighbor in my current apartment.”

”But...you clearly lived your life. After you got out, you did your best to...to move on. I feel like I’m stuck in the past, was stuck in the past.”

”I did not move on, not exactly; if I had, I’d hooked up with Romanoff or some other random girl, and not lay here and be all cuddly with you.” Bucky points out, gaining a huff and a quiet laugh from Steve.

”I guess you have a point.”

They both snicker quietly, and then just look at each other for a moment again. It was clear to Bucky that the blond man was still amazed that he was there; probably wondering if this was all just a dream after all. Honestly, Bucky felt the same way somewhat, except that the slight aching that his body did, proved that he was indeed awake.

”Seriously, get some sleep.” He sighs after a moment, ruffling Steve’s hair before shifting closer in order to tug the blond’s head under his chin, the same way he’d used to back when they were kids. Steve did not quite fit there the same way, but Bucky didn’t care as he felt Steve press against him, closing his eyes with a sigh. His metal arm rested around the blond’s waist, holding him close as gently as you could with that arm.

Despite all the questions and confusion inside Steve’s mind, the Captain eventually managed to fall asleep, breathing in the familiar scent.

 

 

The morning was tense; Natasha and Fury had gone on ahead to deal with their part of the plan, whereas Steve’s team was preparing for their part. The blond kept glancing at Bucky, still worried for his injuries, but the man seemed to be fine, or he was hiding a lot of his pain.

”Are you sure you wanna let Barnes come with us?”

Sam questions quietly as he notices the man’s gaze, and the Captain sighs, shaking his head.

”No, but I cannot stop him from doing it; I could probably wrestle Tony to the floor for this if I had to, but Bucky’s about as strong as me, and even more stubborn.”

His companion chuckles a bit, giving Steve a pointed look.

“Somehow I doubt that last part, though he’s very close.”

 

The four head towards the Shield HQ through the forest near the riverbank. They’d opted for radio-silence to not blow Natasha’s cover. All four were tense, but determined to get this done. ”Ready?” Steve questions his team, turning to face them. Sam and Hill respond with a firm ’yes,’ whereas Bucky just nods. He was in full combat gear, even wearing the mask.

He was slightly intimidating sight in the middle of their team, but now that Steve knew what was behind that mask, he was no longer as unnerved by it.

They slip in to the building by an emergency exit that Hill knew wasn’t as heavily guarded as others; using Stark’s device, they lured one of the engineers overseeing the helicarrier launch off his station to check on what the static was about. Bucky swiftly knocks the man out, although Steve cannot stop but worry he’d used too much force as they drag and hide the unconscious man into a nearby closet.

”He ain’t bleeding, Steve, relax.”

Bucky tells the blond calmly, his voice sounding awfully monotone beneath the mask.

Hill quickly hurries to the console, checking through it, while Wilson and Barnes watch the door, ready to take out anybody trying to ambush them potentially.

”Alright boys, let’s get this party started.” She comments while looking through the data.

”We can’t just march out there you know? If Hydra has taken over this place, we’ll be caught and arrested immediately.” Sam points out, gaining a slight frown from Steve.

”Yes; you have to be sneaky in order to reach the carriers. I am fairly sure that even Captain Rogers’ iconic status won’t help right now given this place is overrun by his mortal enemy.” Hill comments thoughtfully, eyes glued to the screen in front of her. ”Do you have a route for us we could take without being seen?” The Captain questions, gaining a slight frown from the woman.

”They are preparing for the launch, so a lot of them are plenty distracted right now, there should be a way for you to reach the launch-pad without being seen, hopefully anyway.” Hill looks trough the building map as well as the security feed to try and locate an optimal route.

”Alright, here’s the plan; we each have one chip to deal with, which means one carrier per person.”

Steve addresses his two side-kicks, who just nod in unison.

”We have to split up and deal with each one by ourselves for now; don’t slip up.”

”Cap, I can handle my shit do not worry.” Sam smirks, crossing his arms, whereas Bucky just snorts, giving Steve a pointed look.

”Alright boys! I found you a route; you might run into few agents still though, but it should not be too difficult to deal with when it comes to you three.”

Hill pipes in suddenly, and Steve nods at her, his gaze now focused on the Shield logo at the wall. Despite all their efforts, all of Bucky’s efforts, it had still come to this. It was upsetting to say the least, and the blond clenches his fists, feeling slight anger raise its head within him.

”Hill, I need to do something.” Before the woman could stop him, Steve reaches for the mic to speak.

 

”Attention all SHIELD agents, this is Steve Rogers.”

 

Sam just stares at him in shock alongside Maria, but as the two of them try to stop the man, Bucky steps between them with a sharp look.

”Let him do this.”

”But Barnes...” Hill tried to protest.

”Fury wanted ta save the Shield; Steve’s giving ’em a chance to prove they’re not all rotten.”

 

”You've heard a lot about me over the last few days. Some of you were even ordered to hunt me down. But I think it's time to tell the truth. S.H.I.E.L.D. is not what we thought it was. It's been taken over by HYDRA. ”

 

Steve pauses for a second to properly form the next words in his head, feeling three sets of eyes on him. The initial shock from the two had died down and they were now just waiting to hear what he had to say. Bucky was the only one not phased right now, used to shenanigans like these from the man.

 

”Alexander Pierce is their leader. The S.T.R.I.K.E. and Insight crew are HYDRA as well. I don't know how many more, but I know they're in the building. They could be standing right next to you. They almost have what they want. Absolute control.”

 

Steve could feel Bucky come to stand beside him, a hand on his shoulder now. Despite their dire situation, knowing that Bucky was right there was comforting to the captain.

 

”They shot Nick Fury. And it won't end there. If you launch those helicarriers today, HYDRA will be able to kill anyone that stands in their way. Unless we stop them. I know I'm asking a lot. But the price of freedom is high. It always has been. And it's a price I'm willing to pay. And if I'm the only one, then so be it. But I'm willing to bet I'm not.”

 

As he ends his speech and looks up, Hill was looking at him slightly awed, while Sam had crossed his arms with a smirk. ”Did you write that down first, or was it off the top of your head?”

Normally Steve would have probably felt a little flustered by that comment, but right now he was too serious to care for the way people tended to find his speeches inspiring. A hand squeezes his shoulder, and Steve turns his attention to Bucky who was still standing beside him, the mask off temporarily.

His face had an expression that spoke of both pride as well as the usual, ’you and your reckless bullshit’ frustration. It did not matter either way, for Bucky’s smile made his heart beat faster, giving Steve a sense that they could pull this off. Sure, he’d do it even if the brunet wasn’t there, but it just added an extra level of re-assurance to this situation, having Bucky right here with him. Without a word, Steve leans closer and kisses Bucky, just a quick peck to the lips, before the brunet puts the mask back on, grabbing his weapon, ready to go.

”Well, that sure will cause some extra ruckus. It’s a good distraction I suppose.” Hill comments finally with a sigh, but she was smiling.

They sneak across the route Hill game them, avoiding patrolling agents and other staff – due to the slight chaos Steve’s speech had caused, there were some running across the hallways as if they did not know what to do – until they reached the launching pad. The Captain curses inwardly, noticing the bodies littering the ground on the way; there clearly had been a power struggle, as some of the Shield-loyalists had clearly tried to prevent the launch but had failed to do so.

He felt bad now, knowing that this could have perhaps been avoided if it wasn’t for his earlier outburst and passionate speech, but a pointed stare from Bucky reminded Steve he had no time to mourn over this right now; he could go and wallow if self-pity later.

As the upper doors began to open, the helicarriers started their engines, clearly ready to launch up into the skies. Despite the efforts from the SHIELD members, they had not managed to prevent the launch.

“This might turn ugly; we gotta keep the ships above the river so they won’t injure any bystanders if they crash.” Bucky mutters quietly, and Steve agrees with that notion.

While the HQ was quite some way away from the nearest other buildings, those ships were big and could cause a lot of damage if they crashed somewhere with a lot of people. Without any further word, the trio splits up, each of them taking care of their respective carrier.

”Cap, how do we know the good guys from the bad guys?”

Sam asks off-handedly as they split, gaining a roll of eyes from Barnes.

”If they’re shooting at you, they’re bad!”

Sam could not stop but chuckle at that reply.

 

Bucky heads for his carrier, swiftly jumping on board and disarming the first two guys swiftly, before knocking them out by slamming them face-first to the ground. He then sprints to hide behind a large pile of boxes on the deck, as a patrolling group starts shooting at him. He grabs a grenade from his belt and flicks it at the men. The bomb explodes a second later at their feet, incapacitating the whole group, and Bucky sprints across the deck, using anything on there as a cover from potential further attacks. He runs across another duo of Hydra-loyalists, and literally Spartan kicks them off the ship, catching the two men off guard as they happened to have their backs turned on him.

The action hurt his leg a bit, but Bucky bit his lip and swallowed down the pain; like he’d told Steve, he’d been on field with worse injuries, the current ache he felt in his leg was honestly nothing compared to some shit he’d had to endure.

Part of Bucky was a little disturbed how easy it was for him to dispose of these people, Hydra loyalists or not. The man shakes his head; he did not have time to ponder his own morality right now, if they did not deal with this, a lot of innocent people would die. He did not have time to pity some scoundrels that allied themselves with a terrorist organization like Hydra.

He reaches the door inside just as his carrier leaves the underground properly.

There was a crack on the intercom, and Bucky could head Sam declaring how he’d apparently found the bad guys. Looking up, Bucky could see the man flying on his wing-suit, avoiding charges sent his way. The man was slightly concerned, but the same time knew Sam would not have joined in if he didn’t know how to handle himself. He did not hear Steve’s response, but it did not matter; he had to focus on his own task. The brunet slips in; using the layout map he’d been shown by Maria and memorized to find his way into the control center of the ship.

It was placed below it, into a huge upside-down glass dome casing with some pathway bridges leading to the chip-tree in the center. Part of him wondered why was the important core of these things so exposed; did they really not expect anybody to get this far?

What if somebody just shot this thing from the outside?

Either way, it was a lucky break for them.

Just as he manages to slip the right chip in place, a blast rocks the dome and he nearly falls off the walkway, glancing towards the sound of the explosion. He sees Sam fly by; he was followed by a jet that was clearly targeting him. There was a large hole on the glass dome, further proving that whoever came up with this particular design was a dumbass. Bucky manages to jump down onto the grating right above the glass surface and makes his way towards the hole, following Sam with his gaze.

The man was clearly in a pinch, dodging the shots aimed at him.

Then, the plane following the Falcon suddenly shoots two heat-seeking missiles at Sam, and Barnes feels worry tighten in his throat. If the missiles were a bit closer, he could perhaps use his biggest gun to take out at least one of them, but the chase was too far away already. ”Barnes, what are you doing, get out of there!” Came Maria’s warning voice, just as a group of men burst into the dome, weapons ready. Bucky quickly dodges to hide under the walkway they were on and at the opposite side of the central pillar. He risks a glance up, noting there were five men, clearly ready to turn him to Swiss-cheese.

Too bad for them, the Winter Soldier was tougher than that.

Bucky manages to haul himself up secretly and sneak behind the group, smashing the first one’s face against the side-railing before dropping him to the glass-surface below.

He then brings his metal arm up to cover himself from two bullets fired at him, before shooting the nearest guy in the stomach, making him and his buddy stumble over the railing, and actually falls out from the hole made into the dome.

As he looks up to the two remaining guys, Barnes notes they looked afraid. He did not blame them; his mask and scowl was a terrifying combo, on top of having the hulking metal arm attached to him. The only thing he lacked right now was blood-splatters on his body; these guys were too weak to warrant such excessive display of power from him. Before either of them could shoot, he kicks the nearest guy on his stomach, followed instantly by a metallic elbow to his back, probably breaking some bones. He shoves the limp man down on top of his fallen friend below, and then swiftly grabs the last gun aimed at him, crushing the barrel at the palm of his hand. The guy just stares at his gun baffled, as if his brain had stopped functioning for a second.

Bucky uses this opportunity to knock him out and shove him down to rest of his buddies.

_"Barnes, Sam got the beta chip locked in place; he’ll come pick you up so you can go aid Steve!”_

”What? Why the hell hasn’t Steve done shit yet?” Bucky asks both annoyed and concerned as he jumps back down, heading for the hole.

His leg was still aching, and his walk was bit of a limp right now, but he could handle it.

 _”There were more men on his carrier, he’s been disarming them.”_ Maria comments after a momentary pause, and Bucky had a feeling there was more going on, something that Steve probably did not want to admit to any of them.

”Figures.”

Bucky comments just as Sam arrives and simply grabs him, flying off towards the last carrier they needed to deal with.

That’s when one of the planes chasing them manages to hit Sam in the wing, sending them both spiraling down towards the ground. This causes Sam to lose his grip on Bucky, and the two fly apart, making themselves easy targets for any further attacks.

”Shit!”

The bird-suit pilot exclaims, trying to reach for his parachute release, only to find it stuck.

He did not even have time to worry about the brunet as the ground was approaching fast. That’s when the said brunet suddenly appears beside him, being able to control his fall by shifting his body in order to fall faster and catch up with Sam. Bucky manages to grab his knife and cut the stuck parachute loose, which in turn also released the mangled wing-set off from Sam.

He then clings onto Sam and only a second later, the parachute pops out and opens, slowing down their fall with a jolt.

The landing is still rough and the duo stumbles to the ground, with Bucky lying on top of Sam, who tells him to get off with a groan. The brunet does get up then, checking San for any injuries. He soon notes the man’s leg was at an unnatural angle, which meant it was probably broken during the impact with the ground. Ironically, it was the same leg that Barnes had injured, though not as badly.

Talking about that, the aching in his own foot was slightly worse now, and Bucky had to bite his lip and focus to push the pain back for now.

”Jesus, Sam, I’m sorry!” He exclaims after a moment, feeling guilt raise in his throat.

”It’s fine; I knew the risk...”

Suddenly, they could sense somebody approach them, and Bucky instantly pulls out his gun, only to find a familiar blond haired lady leading a group of pilots towards them. ”We’re with Shield! We’ve come to offer assistance for Captain Rogers.” She explains, holding her arms up to showcase she was not a threat. Barnes eyes them suspiciously for a moment: he knew the woman was probably trustworthy, but he could not say the same about the pilots.

 _”Barnes, Wilson, are you okay?!”_ Came a worried voice from their intercom.

”We were shot down; Wilson’s leg’s broken.”

_”Shit, you?”_

“Peachy.” He could imagine the woman having a disapproving frown on her face, probably not buying his story.

Before she could say anything or protest however, Barnes cuts her off. ”There’s a blond woman offering help for Steve up there.” She goes quiet, perhaps trying to recall whom he was referring to.

_”Can you trust her?”_

Bucky looks back up at the woman and the group with her, that had not moved an inch during this exchange. ”You can trust us, Sergeant.” The blond comments softly after a moment of tense silence, her voice near pleading. Bucky almost flinches at her using his old status, and the man cannot stop but wonder how the woman knew.

”Aunt had a picture where you were in, in her office; I recognized you from it.”

She explains calmly, and then glances at Wilson who was trying to scramble up from the ground.

 _”Boys, we got another situation; Rumlow is heading for the council.”_ Maria suddenly warns them, and Bucky glances between Sam, the final carrier, and the woman in front of him.

 

**_”Go help Natasha; I can handle this.”_ **

 

It was Steve; he’d been listening to the conversation.

Bucky had never been happier to hear that stubborn punk’s voice, as now he knew the moron was at least alive.

After another precious second, Bucky gets up, trying his best to not show his pain, and grabs his gun, which naturally makes the group tense. ”Wilson needs to get outta here; his leg’s broken.” He says simply, given the woman a pointed look who nods.

”I’m gonna go help the hostages.” He states simply, and walks past the woman, grabbing her arm and giving her a sharp look before leaving.

”If either of them dies, I’ll have your head. Don’t care you’re a Carter.”

”Understood.” She says with a slightly unnerved, but also determined look.

With that, Bucky heads back in the building. As he walks across the corridors, he could tell there had been a struggle; broken glass, thrown furniture, bloodstains and bodies were littering the hallways. There was a guy stuck in between the elevator door, preventing the lift from moving.

 _”He’s already on the 41: th floor!”_ Maria warns him, and the man considers his options.

He walks to the man on the lift, and drags his lifeless body out of the elevator, closing the doors and allowing the lift to head down. Barnes then hits the emergency button, shutting the whole thing down before prying open the doors, and grasping his flying hook. He shoots it up, until it hits something, and uses the strong cable to swiftly pull himself up several floors. The hook had latched onto a broken piece of wall that had crashed through an elevator door and stuck it open.

Bucky climbs on top of the piece and jumps up and out of the elevator shaft right before the piece gives away and crumbles into the shaft below.

As he looks around, Barnes notes that he was in the twentieth floor.

The man peeks back into the elevator shaft, but could not see anything he could use his grappling hook on.

”It looks like I gotta run for it.” He mutters, not liking the concept given his injured leg.

_“If you absolutely insist…one of your pockets should have a painkiller that Bruce made originally for Steve; when he heard you insisted on heading out despite your injury, he offered to put that in just in case.”_

“Why’d you not tell me sooner?” Barnes growls as he checks the said pocket, indeed finding a small syringe with bluish liquid on it.

Without a word, he injects it on his neck, and it doesn’t take long for the throbbing ache from going away.

 _“Now, this will only dull the pain; in all likeness once it wears off, it will be much worse given you are putting pressure on the injured limb.”_ The woman warns him, but the man did not care and just heads for the staircase, sprinting towards the floor with the head office as quickly as he could. It was time like these his super-soldier enhancements were handy: even the most fit agent could’ve been near passing out having to run up twenty plus floors of stairs, but by the time Bucky reached the top, he was only mildly exhausted, and quickly sneaked towards the office.

It was clear there’d been a bit of a struggle, given how a bunch of S.T.R.I.K.E members were out.

Romanoff was currently standing in front of the large glass-hologram screen, hands held in the air as Rumlow painted a gun at her.

Fury was pinned as well as Pierce had a gun on him, too.

”This has been an entertaining farce, but I really do need to get on with the business.” The man states calmly, his tone chatty it was almost eerie. Bucky could feel a flashback tugging at the back of his head; the man had been equally casual towards him back then, before smacking him across the face for not listening.

A bit of bile rose into his throat, and the man forces it back, needing to focus right now.

There were more loud noises and explosions outside, and as everybody turns to look out from the window, there was clearly a full on dog-fight going in the air, both parties shooting each other down. It was horrifying sight, especially right above Washington DC. This thing had to stop and fast, before those things would stray too far away from the river and crash land onto the city. The man uses the opportunity where everybody is distracted to sneak in and slip behind the desk, crouched down so he could not be seen. Natasha glances at him surprised, but the man just signals at her;

_”you done?”_

She just nods faintly; indicating that the woman had already began to spread the Intel into the World Wide Web.

”You sure put on quite a show, Nick; I wonder though if this was the smartest tactic, given how many bystanders might be injured during that dog-fight.” Pierce turns his attention back to the eye-patched man, who just glares at him.

”None of this would have happened if you’d not started it.” ”Who started this exactly? You were the one who taught be the truth about democracy.” Fury’s eye flashes dangerously, and he narrows his only visible iris to glare at the man. ”I did what I did to protect people.” ”So am I; I can guarantee the safety of seven billion people, by sacrificing twenty million.” ”Sir, we better get going; if that fight comes any closer to the building...” Rumlow was eyeing the situation outside cautiously.

The second his gun lowers a bit from Natasha, Bucky jumps at him from beneath the desk, tackling the man down and punching him square in the face with the metal fist, making the man’s nose bleed profusely.

Sure, using a gun would’ve been faster, but right now, Bucky wanted to avoid actually killing anyone; seeing Pierce again was making him feel extremely uneasy for some reason, making him hesitant to pull his gun out.

”Sonofa...”

Rumlow’s eyes widen briefly, as he looks up at the masked man, but he doesn’t get to say anything, as Barnes scores him with another punch, before kicking him aside and grabbing the gun the man had, pointing it at Pierce, who seemed mildly surprised by the turn of events.

”Soldier.” He comments after a moment of silence.

”What the hell are you doing here? You were supposed to deal with the carriers!” Fury demands from him, but Barnes ignores the eye-patched man. His mind was now fully focused on the elderly male in front of him.

His mind drifted back to that one time he’d done a mission to this man. His calm, casual demeanor had always unnerved Bucky, but now that he saw the man in front of him again, with more context, he could not help but realize something. Slowly, Bucky’s mind started to connect the dots, and he began to understand his own unease.

”It is a pity that Fury got a hold of your leash. You were a valuable asset for our side.”

”Fuck that; Sergeant should’ve never been forced to work to any of you in the first place.” Fury comments, his tone dripping with venom.

Natasha was now moving towards them, having finished her business with the data. Another, loud explosion was heard outside, but it all was white noise in Bucky’s head right now.

”Well you clearly have not made him more talkative, that’s for sure. His manners are awful as well, couldn’t even bother to knock.”

”Sergeant, we must leave this place before any of those ships crashes onto the building; we better escort the state secretary here out as well.”

Nick orders the man, and then frowns as he suddenly realizes the brunet’s normally steady weapon hand was shaking.

”James?” Natasha asks, noticing the same thing as well.

”I always wondered why.” His soft voice breaks out, muffled by the mask.

The elderly man lifts eyebrow, clearly surprised to hear him speak.

”Out of all the people that dealt with me... even I can admit I was oddly mellow towards you.”

”Sergeant, what are you...” Bucky cuts Fury off.

His tone was turning angry.

Not just angry, but offended, in a strange way.

”Now that I got my bearings, I know why.”

”And why would that be, soldier?” The man asks, his smile near mocking the brunet, whenever that was intentional was a mystery.

”You looked like _him_. Like Steve.” Bucky’s voice began to shake, but not out of sadness or fear; he was angry.

The previously shaky gun rose again, and he was aiming it firmly at the man’s head, who was still completely calm. Had it been anybody else, they would probably have been terrified right now, seeing the Winter Soldier’s normally empty and emotionless gaze turn into something rather unstable and mad. Not Pierce however, he was as collected as ever.

”Well, I suppose that was a lucky break for us, then. You are much less bothersome to deal with when you don’t try to bite your handlers.” Bucky would have probably pulled the trigger at that point, had there not been another blast as a smaller plane hit the building, making the entire headquarters shake like a strong earthquake hit it, knocking them all off their feet.

Pierce used this opportunity to shoot towards Barnes, but the bullet bounces off his metal arm uselessly. He then attempts to make a run for it for the door, but is stopped by Natasha who knocks him to the floor, wrestling the gun off from his hand. ”Doing this much exercise must be bad for your heart, state secretary.”

She comments casually, right before Rumlow suddenly attacks her, kicking her off his boss as well as grasping the gun, attempting to shoot after the woman. Bucky had already regained his composure however, and jumped between them, dodging the bullet with his arm again, before grabbing his own gun and shooting the one on Rumlow’s hand, making the man drop it. Brock was not stunned for long however, as another explosion rocks the building, he literally jumps at Barnes, punching him in the face in turn.

”That was for earlier!”

He hisses, aiming another strike at the dazed man’s face, before reaching for the gun that had been resting nearby, attempting to shoot him in the face point-blank. A struggle for the weapon ensues, and a shot hits right next to Bucky’s head, grazing his ear and making blood dribble down from it. Normally, he’d been able to push the bastard off with ease, but Bucky’s mind was going haywire right now, and he could not focus properly.

Brock smacks him in the face again, making Bucky see red as blood starts to color his vision.

“I always thought you were too dangerous to have around; you never know with those old soviet relics when they’ll blow in your face.” The man hisses at him, trying to take a shot again. That’s when Bucky grasps Rumlow’s gun-wielding hand with his metallic one, forcing the weapon off his hold and breaking the man’s fingers in the process, making him howl in pain.

Bucky quickly head-butts him, forcing the man off himself, and scrambles to his feet.

From the corner of his eye, Bucky could see that Pierce was on the door already, attempting to escape. Natasha was on the floor for some reason, no bullet wounds to her nor blood anywhere around her body. Almost if she’d been paralyzed by something.

Bucky feels an immense amount of anger bubble-up in his chest as he witnesses that; he’d trained this woman, aided her when she was a child; she’d managed to connect with his human side and enabled his escape from Hydra.

Now he was truly seeing _red_ , and not thanks to the blood.

The next second happens almost if slow-motion.

Fury yells something at him while rushing to Natasha, but his voice was muffled.

Rumlow attempts to attack him again, but Bucky just throws him against a wall with a fierce growl and he could hear the some of the man’s bones breaking with a disgusting crack.

Bucky grabs the gun again and points it at the escaping older man, his eyes mirroring the cold look he usually had had during missions.

Two shots ring in the air.

There’s blood seeping from Pierce’s head and back, as he stumbles to the floor, inch away from the doorway.

”You bastard!” Rumlow snarls at him, but before he could even attempt to get up, another tremor strikes the building, and he watches in shock as the floor beneath the man literally crumbles away, making Brock fall down to the pit that had appeared.

”We need to get away now!” The one- eyed man yells out, supporting the limp form of the woman as he heads towards the door, ignoring the corpse lying in front of the doorway. Bucky’s mind was in a strange, dazed haze.

He stares at the corpse, and his mind begins to do weird things.

The corpse flashes, and for a second, he thinks it’s Steve lying there, dead.

It disgusts him, and Bucky almost finds himself shooting at the corpse again; _how DARES he to look like Steve?!_

A sharp smack suddenly hits him across the face, and Bucky looks up almost panicked, finding Fury in front of him with almost concerned look.

He was holding a hand on top of his gun, clearly trying to coax him to put it down. His face was wild, almost like a spooked animal, and Fury did not like the look the man had one bit.

”Rogers managed to put the last chip in place, and his carrier is now heading towards us, we gotta leave before it crashes.”

Indeed, as Bucky glanced out from the window, he could see the large carrier heading straight towards them like shark heading towards the scent of blood. Bucky shakes his head, trying to gather his bearings and calm down. ”W-where...did he get out?” He questions as he stumbles up, but Fury just shakes his head, and begins dragging him towards the door, where Natasha stood, leaning on the doorway.

Whatever had happened it was clear it had only stunned the black widow momentarily.

They somehow manage to make it to the helicopter and fly out, and Barnes watches in a mixture of horror and fear as the thing crashes against the base. His thoughts flash back towards Sam and the blond agent, as well as Hill.

Where were they? Where is Steve?

”It seems Sam managed to get out; Hill’s also escaped the building.” Natasha informs him calmly after listening to their comlink for a moment.

Bucky just gives her a look, and she demands to know about Steve’s whereabouts the second she understood that look. Bucky keeps his eyes on the river, looking through the falling debris and other junk raining from the sky.

That’s when he spots it; a familiar tint of blue attached to a round disk that plunges to the waters below. Without thinking, and ignoring the warning yelp from the red haired woman, Bucky jumps off the helicopter, diving into the cold waters below.

At first, he could not see anything; the falling junk had stirred the bottom layer of the river, making everything murky.

Then, he spots a familiar, round object further down, and dives, praying that Steve was still attached to it. The man dodges a falling pile of rubble from the destroyed carriers that crash to the water above him. Bucky gets disoriented for a second, and could feel his fear start to catch up; he was underwater, unable to breathe and he had no clue where the hell Steve was.

Then, he sees the red, blue and white disk again and dives. He reaches for it, reaches nearby it.

There, a hand.

It was Steve.

Bucky grasps the unconscious Captain, and lets the current to bring them further away from the falling debris, before breaking to the surface. He glances at Steve’s lifeless form, worry etching itself into his mind. Steve was pale, and he did not seem to be breathing. He had bullet-wounds in his body as well that slowly seeped blood into the waters. Whatever had happened up there, it had been serious.

Bucky hated himself right now for not being there, but there was nothing he could do for that anymore.

He just had to get Steve out from the river.

The brunet quickly reaches the shore and drags the limp man out of the water, feeling for his heartbeat. There was one, but it was extremely faint, and the man was not breathing. With all the strength he could muster despite his shaky state, Bucky performs CPR on the lifeless captain, blowing air into his lungs. ”Breathe, Stevie.” He near orders as he pumps the man’s chest again, trying to force the water out of his lungs.

If Steve died on him now…

After what felt like hours, but was only probably a couple of seconds, the blond coughs and splutters out the water, making the brunet sink onto his knees beside him, letting out a breath of relief.

”Bu....cky?”

The blond tilts his head slightly towards the brunet, who says nothing, just wipes his face which was now covered in blood, grime and tears.

”Jesus Christ Rogers, don’t scare me like that!” He huffs, and then leans down to give Steve a warm kiss right on his slightly cold lips, feeling a bit like he never wanted to stop. Steve smiles faintly beneath that touch, but he was too weakened to really respond to it. That did not matter, really, as second later Bucky collapsed beside him, forehead pressed against Steve’s shoulder.

 

Last thing he heard was a familiar female voice calling out for them.


	10. Finale for now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We find out what happened to Steve. Mostly this is about dealing with the aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the name of shawarma as Tony says in this story, I am SO annoyed with this site right now. This is the THIRD time I am trying to upload this chapter, and I'm tired of dealing with the glitches. ugh. 
> 
> Aaanyway. For the THIRD time, I shall try to say this: This chapter is shorter, because I did not have much left to say. The ending is kind of open as I thought that I might make sequels for this story, given this au-verse has potential in my eyes.  
> Also, somebody asked me about who shot Steve, but the thing is, in this story, the "who" is not important, but rather "Why" Steve got shot despite being a super-soldier and faster than the goons he's dealing with. Just putting that out there in case somebody wonders why I never identified the shooter. 
> 
> And lastly, thank you for the kudos and comments, I was glad to find out people enjoyed this story :D

The first thing Steve noticed when waking up was the fact he was lying on something soft. A hospital bed, perhaps? Sure enough, he could soon hear the familiar beeps all around him.  
He tried to recall what had happened exactly. 

 

The Captain had made his way through the deck, taking out hostiles like back in the war days. It had almost felt like he’d gone back in time, part of this feeling probably thanks to knowing Bucky was around somewhere too. 

Then, a sudden group of enemies had appeared and pinned him down with rapid fire, supported by a one of the jet pilots. He’d managed to avoid getting hit, but his path to the inside of the ship was blocked.   
That’s when Sam contacted him, informing him that he’d found the bad guys.

”Are you alright sam?!”  
”I’m not dead yet!”

Steve could see the man swish past the carrier, flying up as bullets and small explosions followed his tail.  
”Steve, you need to focus!” Maria reminds him, and the Captain shakes his head, knowing there wasn’t much he could do for Sam right now. The man could probably handle himself.

”I’m in a bit of a pinch.” He comments, and then throws his shield at the nearest men, knocking them down and quickly dodging behind another pile of metal crates. He also grabs a grenade from the knocked out guys and throws it at the group firing at him, covering as the thing explodes and sends them flying.   
He quickly peeks around, noticing that the pathway was now mostly clear; he just had to dodge the fire from the plane that was clearly looking for him.   
As he gets up from the spot, Steve suddenly feels a momentarily dizzy-spell hit him, and he has to hold onto the metallic crate next to him for a moment to balance himself.  
For a brief second, his vision blurs.

Oh God, not now, this is not a good time.

The man shakes his head and quickly dodges behind another obstacle, as a plane flies by and attempts to shoot at him.   
Steve quickly rolls aside, using his shield to dodge the bullets.

That pilot was a problem, being able to circle around and above Steve much faster than any men on the deck.   
Then, he spots one of the guys heading his way with what seemed to be a rocket launcher of sort.  
Steve dodges the projectile hurled at him and kicks the guy down, wrestling the weapon off his hand and shoots it at the plane that had been cornering him, blowing it to pieces as the pilot bails.

Steve throws the weapon aside after breaking it, and knocking the man out cold, before sprinting towards the door.

As he reaches it and grasps the handle however, another dizzy-spell passes over him. That’s when he nearly misses yet another hydra goon heading his way, shooting at the man with a Taser. The Captain barely dodges the paralyzing zap and quickly kicks the man in the jaw, knocking him out cold. Steve then has to back away and hide behind few jets to just breathe for a moment.

This...did not look good. 

The Captain remains grounded for a moment, leaning against the shield as he breathes heavily. 

Steve’s vision was blurring again, and he began to feel...feverish.

Shit.

Shot fires at him, bouncing off the shield, and Steve looks up, finding another group of hostiles entering the deck from the very door he was supposed to enter from.  
Did this carrier just happen to have more expendable staff, or was Steve being slower than usual due to whatever was happening inside his body? The man had no exact idea.  
He quickly dodges to hide behind the nearest jet, now wishing there was somebody there with him.

That’s when he hears the frantic cry from the comlink; Sam and Bucky had gone down, possibly injured. Steve did not know if they’d managed to put their chips in place.   
The captain throws his shield and manages to knock two of the guys down, sprinting to the nearest one and grasping his weapon, shooting up at the remaining two while covering himself with his shield.

He was not as comfortable with handguns as Bucky, but his aim wasn’t too bad and the man manages to hit one of the guys in the stomach, and another one to his leg, making the man stumble over the edge of the carrier, having been standing too close to it.   
He listens to the conversation on the radio

”We were shot down; Wilson’s leg’s broken.”  
”Shit.”

Steve had to agree with Maria, though he was glad that both of them were at least alive.

”There’s a blond woman offering help for Steve up there.”  
”Can you trust her?”

Blonde woman....

Steve had a feeling this lady was referring to his former neighbor.  
”Boys, we got another situation; Rumlow is heading for the council.” Maria suddenly warns them; that did not sound good. Natasha was tough, but so was Rumlow, and avoiding casualties could become a problem. 

Steve looks around, trying to stabilize himself as his head spun again.  
Bucky nor Sam had no way to reach the carrier, and they were running out of time too; the carriers were now almost at the optimal height to start shooting. 

”Go help Natasha, I can handle this.” He informs the team on the ground, imagining that they all would have loved to protest against this, especially if they’d known that he was having symptoms again. After a moment, he could hear Bucky bark commands at the group that had come for their aid, indicating that they agreed with Steve’s assessment of the situation for now.

Steve takes in a deep breath and pushes himself off the ground, stalking towards his entrance. There were no more men heading his way, but the Captain knew to be cautious; just because he did not see anybody right now, did not mean there weren’t any. The crew had to be aware he was on board by now.

He eventually reaches the core, noting that there were no men guarding it. It felt strange, given how exposed the spot felt. Cautiously, he walks towards the center, holding his shield up. 

That’s when another shot rings in the air, and Steve feels sharp pain jab at his behind.  
He glances down, finding that there had been two men hiding at the level below.  
He quickly sprints across the pathway, dodging rest of the bullets, and hides behind the central column. As he glances down towards the men, Steve realized to his slight horror that he could not see them properly again; it was as if his own thundering heartbeat was re-activating the toxin leftovers in his system and strengthening their effect.

”Give up, Captain! We know you are not fully operational right now.”

One of the men calls out for him, but Steve remains hidden from view. So these guys knew about the poison? Figures. Perhaps somebody higher up with knowledge of his poisoning had informed these guys about it. 

There was more commotion, and Steve suddenly saw another duo burst in from the door opposite of him. The Captain quickly covers himself with his shield to dodge the bullets, and then throws it to knock the two down from the walkway. 

Shit, he was running out of time.  
Suddenly, something blasts against the glass dome, sending sharp pieces of it flying inside and injuring the two men standing beneath Steve.  
As he looks up, he sees a plane had just shot inside the dome, and was now waving at him.  
A friendly, it seemed.  
Probably one of those Bucky had encountered on the ground.

The pilot doesn’t stick around long, as he’s soon being chased by the opposing members from within the Helicarrier.

Noting that the two armed men below were still stunned by the explosion, Steve takes the opportunity and quickly ducks to the open side of the center, sliding it down to reach for the correct spot. As he looks trough them however, his vision blurs again and for a second the Captain has no idea which one he was supposed to replace.  
Another shot rings in the air, and there is even worse pain on Steve’s stomach now, and he collapses to the ground, feeling pure agony to take over his body. Perhaps it was the poisoning; whatever toxins left in his body, but something was amplifying the pain.

One of the guys had regained his composure and was now shooting at him.

Steve manages to cover himself with the shield, but his vision was blotchy, and he could not even stand on his feet anymore. He felt like throwing up.  
Then. Just as the man aims for another shot, a plane flies towards the dome, practically crashing against it and taking half of the structure below with it, including the man that had stood there.

Steve just watches in awe as everything below him tumbles down to the water.  
He then drags himself up, and scrambles for the chip.  
With great effort, he manages to find the correct slot to switch with.

”Ten seconds left cap!” Maria warns him, as the carriers were preparing to start their first mass-murder mission.  
Steve lifts his hand, holding the needed chip, his vision almost completely grey now.

He could hear the clock tick in his head, counting from down from ten. 

Five

Four

Three

Two

One...

Just then, he manages to slot the thing in place, before slumping against the walkway, his stomach hurdling. 

”Yes! We got it; now get out of there Cap!”

Steve did not answer; he could barely hear anything Hill said.  
Another explosion nearby shakes the ship and the pathway he’d been lying on gives away, making the Captain plunge to the water.  
He barely registered it when he hit the cold surface, already half unconscious.

In all honesty, Steve had expected to die.

Then, he’d felt a surge of air rush into his lungs, forcing his body to get rid of the excess water in them. What felt like minutes but was only probably a few seconds, Steve coughs the water out of his lungs, faintly realizing he was not in the water anymore.  
There was...

There was somebody hovering above him, face covered in something murky and red.  
It was Bucky.

The brunet was staring down at him with a relieved smile, and a second after Steve whispers out his name, the man huffs and berates him for his stupidity.  
Then, he leans down and kisses Steve; a warm, firm touch of lips that summarized everything Bucky was feeling right now.  
Steve could not stop but smile, before he’d passed out again.

 

The Captain could feel a presence next to him now. He was too tired to open his eyes, but he knew it was Bucky. There was just something in the air that gave the man out. It felt similar to the time he’d watched over Steve by his bedside at the start of this. The only difference was that the presence felt much warmer and more comforting now that Steve knew exactly who it was.

”You awake?” Bucky asks softly, and Steve tilts his head towards the voice, not opening his eyes.  
”I...what....?”

”I spoke with Banner; it seems that there hadn’t been enough time for the cure to get rid of all the toxins, so when you began bashing heads in, the rush of blood and adrenaline caused the stuff to spread again.” Bucky explains as calmly as he could, figuring that Steve would probably want to know this.  
”I...see...”

”Yeah. You should be able to, mind you. Bruce said he’s now 100 % confident it’s all gone.” The brunet pauses, and then grasps Steve’s hand gently. The blond manages to squeeze his hand, making his companion smile. The captain could not see it, but he could sense it.

”How long....did we...”

 

”Yeah. We won. Hill made the carriers to destroy each other. You’ve been out for three days.”  
The captain frowns a bit, and finally attempts to open his eyes. The room he was in was bright, so the man squeezes his eyes shut firmly. The light hurt, but not in the way it had back when his vision had been impaired due to the toxins.  
It was just too damn bright.

”We’re at the Tower, by the way.”  
”Did Tony...?”  
”Yeah, he came to pick us up. Wilson’s fine too, by the way. He just had to put a cast on his leg.”  
”...you?”

There is a moment of silence in the room, and the only thing that tells Steve Bucky was still there was the warm grasp on his hand. Then, a small sigh breaks the silence and Steve could feel the brunet sit at the edge of his bed. 

”Just a lil’ shaken. Most of my physical injuries have already healed.”  
This made the Captain frown, and then regret it as his entire face stung as a result.   
”What happened?” He questions, squeezing the hand still holding his.  
The silence stretched few more moments, before Bucky finally answers the question.  
”I....I figured out why I especially did not like Pierce.”

The man’s voice sounded almost defensive, and Steve wants to prop himself up to comfort Bucky, but his body was still too exhausted to let him do that. The good thing was that his eyes managed to open, and after a moment of blurriness, he could finally make out Bucky’s face, and the way he was biting his lip unsure, eyes glazed as he recalled a distant memory. 

”When I was first brought to him, he was younger. I did not...get it then, but I do now.”  
”What do you mean, Buck?”

The brunet chews on his lip for a longer while, making Steve worry he’d make it bleed. Finally though, Bucky turns to look at him with a tired look.  
”He used to look like you, you know.”

Steve’s mind halts for a moment, then it starts racing as his mind connects the dots. The blue eyes widen in shock, which soon turns to anger. Steve scrambles up, somehow able to do so despite his weakened state. Bucky instantly rushes to aid him, scolding the Captain for trying to move in this state, but Steve just ignores it and tugs Bucky into a firm hug, nuzzling against his hair.

The brunet freezes for a second, and then answers the gesture, holding onto Steve tightly as his shoulders shook.   
”....Did they know?” Steve eventually manages to ask, hesitant. Bucky had buried his face against Steve’s shoulder now, so his voice was muffled as he spoke.  
”No. I don’t...think they did. Nobody at that point probably knew of my origin. Those files were not handed over to the Americans when I switched hands.”  
Steve says nothing, just tightens his hold by a fraction. He could tell Bucky wasn't entirely sure if they had known or not. If they had, what Bucky just told him was beyond fucked up. But, it did not matter anymore; Bucky was there with him, he was safe. 

After a moment, Bucky pulls back a bit, just to tilt his forehead against Steve’s.

”You really scared me there, Stevie.” He murmurs softly, human fingers moving up to brush against the blond man’s cheek.   
”I’m sorry.” The man mumbles sheepishly, not really having anything else to say.   
”I would yell at you right now, but I’m too tired.” 

Steve cannot stop but laugh at that, though his laugh is soon silenced by a soft mouth pressing against his. It was clear Bucky was actually pretty angry at him, given how he was nipping and biting Steve’s lips during the kiss, and his hand reaches up to tug on the short blond locks almost painfully.   
”Keep my words in mind, punk; as soon as my head doesn’t feel like a fluffy cloud, I will beat the shit out of you for your bullshit.”   
Bucky’s quiet tone contradicted his words, but Steve knew he meant them nevertheless. 

”Why is that? I thought you were physically fine?” 

The brunet kisses him again, this time gentler. It sent warm shivers down Steve’s spine.

”I’ve been through shit for the last few days; first I had to go get that damn book that could be used to brainwash me, then I get brainwashed and nearly kill one of your friends, then I have to come face to face with one of my worst nightmares, and you almost drown on me!”   
The blond man smiles sheepishly, muttering out an apology. Maybe it was the sedatives, or the fact they were so close to one another, but Steve could not muster the energy to feel guilty or argumentative right now. 

Bucky seemed to be aware of this as he did not press the issue further right now, just mingled his human fingers into the blond hair again, while his lips kept pressing against Steve’s over and over, like he could not quite believe it yet that Steve was alive.   
He hadn’t gone and kicked the bucket underwater. 

The blond captain was not quite sure when it happened, but by the time Tony and Bruce came to check on him, he’d wounded up to his back with Bucky on top of him, lips meshing together in a much more fervent exchange that Steve thought was possible in his state.

A cough from the doorway snaps them out of it, and Steve could feel his face heat up as Bucky sat up on him, turning to look at the two in the doorway with almost annoyed look.  
”Okay, I did not need to see that.” Tony comments covering his eyes as he slowly slides back from the door, tugging Bruce with him.

”Let’s come back when he’s done assaulting our dear ol’ Captain.”  
Bruce just blinks, utterly confused about the situation, but allows Tony to drag him away from there. 

Steve plops his head back against the pillow with a slight groan, rubbing his face with his palms as his whole face was now red. Bucky’s head was still turned towards the door, peering at it as if he was expecting Tony to sneak back in at any moment with a camera or something.   
He was still sitting on Steve’s waist, the weight almost uncomfortable.

”Jesus Christ; Tony will not let me hear the end of it.” Steve muses under his breath, and the icy blue eyes shift from the door back towards him.   
When Steve glanced up, he noticed that the damn jerk was smirking.  
”Not funny Bucky! Do you have any idea how embarrassing that was?!”  
”Yeah yeah. Didn’t hear you complaining a minute ago.”  
”I am now!”

The brunet just rolls his eyes and leans back down to give him a quick peck to the lips, before scrambling off him and shaking his head, still clearly amused.  
The earlier tension and worry seemed to have seeped away from him for now, which honestly made Steve feel easier too.  
”Where are you going?” He asks, noting that Bucky was grabbing his jacket.

The brunet glances at him with an annoyed look, as if he thought Steve asked because he was scared Bucky would disappear again or something.  
To be fair, he was afraid that would happen.   
”Sam’ll drive me to pick up my cats, that all.”  
”....are you going to come back, or go...home?”

The brunet snorts as he tugs the jacket on, covering the metallic hand with a black glove he had in his pocket.  
”Well, since we royally fucked the Intel system of this country, going back to that apartment would not be safe. Stark’s already made preparations to let me stay here for now until the shit storm calms down.”

Oh, that made sense.  
Steve was still surprised that Tony was willing to help despite what had occurred.

”Look, Steve. Don’t be so surprised. Stark’s reckless, but not unreasonable. On the long run, it’s safer for everybody for me to stay here, instead of out there, where any Hydra goon can try and trigger me into a murderous psychopath-mode.”   
Bucky had a point, but Steve still did not like his choice of words.

The brunet hesitates for a moment, holding his cap, then walks back to the bed and gives the captain one last kiss to his cheek.  
”I’ll be back pretty soon, just rest, alright? I still gotta beat you up later.”  
Steve could not stop but chuckle at that. 

 

”So, it’s not too bad. I mean, Shield being gone it means more work for us, but we kind of knew that would happen, didn’t we?” Tony finishes his briefing to Steve, who was now sitting upright on the bed, the light brown cat snuggled in his lap.

Ever since the furry duo was brought to the tower, they mainly stuck nearby their owner, who in turn stuck nearby Steve most of the time; hence one of the cats was now resting on Steve’s lap, while the female one was currently snoozing on Bucky’s feet. 

After the whole thing had gone down, Natasha had been the one to talk to the senate about the situation. The whole thing had been televised across the nation, and Steve had to admit, he’d never been prouder of his teammate. Then again, Natasha had always been one of those he trusted the most, no matter how crazy it sounded given her backstory. 

Well, the second most.   
Steve could not stop but glance at Bucky on the chair next to his bed. He’d dozed off a while back, and not woken up even when Tony had hurled into the room with all his usual dramatics. 

There had been some sadder news too, the kind that even Stark stopped his usual manic antics to deliver the news for the Captain; the pilots that had rushed in for their aid led by the blond haired female agent, and Steve had learned for his sorrow that three of them had died during the fight.  
Sure, they had been doing their job, but Steve still felt incredibly guilty about it.

One of the pilots who’d died was the man who’d aided Steve, when he’d been pinned down by the group of hostiles in the carrier’s belly.   
The Captain made a mental note to send his condolences to the man’s family perhaps even go and see them personally. 

Right now however, he had to focus on recovering from his ordeal. The toxin was gone, but he still had two bullet-wounds in his body, though both were mostly healed by now. 

All in all, he was just really tired, just like the brunet sleeping on his chair beside his bed. Steve’s eyes drift back at Bucky again as he examines the sleeping figure with a mixture of fondness and worry; Bucky looked incredibly tired, with bags under his eyes. 

”Are you really going to let Bucky stay?”  
”In the name of Shawarma, cap! Stop assuming I wanna kill the guy. I got past my murderous rage two years ago.”  
Steve flinches a bit at Tony’s choice of words, but says nothing, just keeps looking at Bucky.

”He hasn’t exactly slept much. Been fussing over you for the past week you’ve been bedridden.” Tony comments after a moment of silence.   
Steve could not stop but feel both guilty and concerned, but he said nothing. It would be like Bucky to do something like this, hell, he’d been a nervous, worrying wreck too if it had been Bucky who’d been poisoned and nearly drowned earlier. 

”So....naturally, given all the files were released to the public, there’s...gonna be people who’d rather see him in jail.” Tony begins after a moment, and Steve turns his attention back to the billionaire.

”We have been working on getting all the info needed, in case it becomes a court case, but I figured I should warn you about it so it won’t come out of blue.”  
”Do you think it will...”

The billionaire shrugs, scratching his head unsure.

”Hard to say; I mean, his and Romanoff’s history is kind of similar. Might be that it’s just gonna be a shit-show for couple of weeks before dying down. I mean, your buddy has done a lot of good for the country and all...”

It was fairly clear to Steve that Tony had no clue how this would go.   
But it was fine.

”Thank you Tony, for everything.” He says sincerely, gaining a snort and badly hidden smile from the billionaire.  
”Stop that cap! You’re making me blush.” 

There was a sudden meow coming from the chair and Nat jumps off, as Bucky suddenly snaps awake, looking around dazed for a moment.  
”Bucky?” Steve calls out cautiously, and the blue eyes drift on him, confused. For a moment, it seemed as if Bucky did not recognize who he was. Then, a warm smile spreads across his face.

”Hey. Did I doze off? Sorry about that.”   
The man rubs his eyes, then spots Tony in the room.

”Morning, sleeping beauty.” The billionaire jokes, hands in his pockets. Steve could tell the man was still lightly tense around Bucky, but it did not seem to bother the brunet. He understood where Tony was coming from anyway.  
”Oh, hey Stark. What did I miss?”

”Nothing much; just explained to your bunk-buddy what happened while he was slouching off my medical center.”

Steve could not stop but cough at Tony’s choice of words, and glare at him irritated while his cheeks flashed red. Bucky snorts at that.  
”He’s gotta work hard to earn that right again.”

”Aww, did you guys have a lovers’ quarrel or something?”

”It was post-phoned, but now that this stubborn punk seems to be better, I’m going right back at sulking at him.” Bucky gives Steve an obvious, faked angry glare, which actually cracks a laugh out of Tony.

”Yep. I’m definitely starting to like you.” 

”Hmmh.” Bucky hums, while still staring at Steve who turns his gaze away, trying not to laugh at the childishly pouting look aimed at him.  
”Get that business out of the way asap, as we got work to do now that Fury went underground and Shield is gone.” Tony reminds then, before slowly backing away from the room, giving Steve a mischievous smirk and a wink, closing the door behind him.

Steve huffs, shaking his head with a smile.  
”He’s something else.”  
”Stark is always a Stark, huh.” Bucky hums, then gets up and walks to slump on Steve’s bed. After a moment, Nat jumps up too, settling on top of Bucky’s crossed legs, and the brunet starts rubbing her head gently, making the cat purr.   
After a moment, Punky joins her, and Steve rolls his eyes at that.  
”Both trying to hog all of your attention.”

”Sort of like their name-sakes.” Bucky chuckles at that, now scratching Punky’s head too. The cats seemed really happy to have their master back, and rubbed themselves against Bucky. 

”How were they when you picked them up?”

”Pissing mad, Nat at least; she’d backed into a cupboard and wouldn’t come out until I got her some snacks. Punky on the other hand wanted to cling onto my leg the whole time.”  
”Like their name-sakes, huh?” Steve mutters with a half-smile, and then realizes what he’d just said. Bucky stares at him with a blank look long enough to make Steve squirm.

”I swear, Rogers, if you start clinging on to my leg like a goddamn cat, I will jump off this building’s roof.” He deadpans, but there was a hint of amusement in those blue eyes.   
”Given our track records, you’d probably survive that.”  
”Doubt you wanna test the theory.”   
Steve had to agree to that.

After a moment, Bucky puts the cats to the floor, and shifts closer to Steve, lying beside him.

”Are you still tired?” The captain questions softly, making more room for the man. Bucky just sighs and rests his metal arm around Steve’s waist loosely.   
”Kind of. I don’t know, Bruce says its mental exhaustion. I just couldn’t bring myself to sleep.”  
Steve felt a pang of guilt in his system again, and manages to roll onto his side, so they were face-to-face. He cups Bucky’s cheek, noting that his stubble was really rough under the palm. Bucky seriously needed to shave. 

”I’m sorry for worrying you.”   
Predictably, Bucky snorts at that.

”You always do that, punk. Almost a century later and that hasn’t changed.”

The brunet comments and shoves him half-assed, making Steve snicker at the incredibly exaggerated pouty face the man was making at him.   
For a moment, they just look at each other, examining every inch of each other’s faces. It was clear for Steve both were still kind of processing the fact they were together again, even after all these years. Eventually, the metallic limb tightens its grip, tugging the hospital-gown wearing man closer, and Bucky kisses him gently, a soft touch that warmed Steve’s insides more than was probably necessary. 

”Gods, I’m so happy you’re here.” Steve blurts out involuntarily, his eyes getting blurry again, though this time because of tears. The brunet hums, tilting their foreheads together, but says nothing. He did not really have to; he’d said his piece already.

Steve knew, he’d always known, so there was no reason to repeat it.  
The blond leans closer, returning the kiss, and they trade back and forth for a bit, another moment of serenity in this confusing, chaotic modern world they both ended up in thanks to a bizarre set of events. 

”I love you.”

Steve whispers finally, feeling his mind get drowsy again.   
”No shit Rogers.” Bucky chuckles a bit, then smiles softly at him.  
”I know. Till the end of the line, remember?”

The blond just nods nuzzling his head under the brunet’s chin and falling asleep soon after, feeling incredibly safe being held by his Bucky as he slept.

”Come hell or high water, m’staying right here, for you, you stubborn little punk.” 

The brunet mutters softly, kissing Steve’s temple, before dozing off himself.


End file.
